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SHE'S SWEETER TO ME THAN THE BEST OF THEM ALL.
Their gipsies of Donnas, Spain's Dons well may love ; Your Cubans, their Creoles, rank all belles above; I've heard messmates say that you have not a chance Of keeping quite cool near the charmers of France; The Signors of Naples and Venice may fall At the feet of Signoras whom matchless they call,
But, up with your glass,
I know a dear lass That's sweeter to me than the best of them all.
For twenty rough years, I've been boxing about; All ports of the wide world, I've been in and out; North and South, East and West, from New York to
Hong Kong, And I've glimpsed all the charmers, to each, that
belong; There are sweet ones in all at whose feet one could fall; Dane, Turk, South Sea brownie, you beauties may call; But, up with your glass, Here's the English dear lass That's sweeter to me than the best of them all. |
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