Can’t You Dance the Polka? (I)

As I walked down the Broad-way, one mornin' in Jul-y'
I met a maid, who ax'd me trade, an' a Sailor John, sez I--

To me way you Santee, my dear Annie
Oh, you New York girls, can’t you dance the polka?

To Tiffany's I took her, I did not mind expense,
I bought her two gold earrings, an' they cost me fifteen cents.

Sez she, "You Limejuice sailor, now see me home you may,"
But when we reached her cottage door, she unto me did say.

My flash man he's a Yankee, wid his hair cut short behind,
He wears a pair of tall seaboots, an' he's bosun in the Blackball line."

"He's homeward bound this evenin', an' wid me he will stay,
So git a move on, sailor-boy, git crackin' on yer way."

So I kissed her hard and proper, afore her flashman came
An' fare-ye-well, ye Bowery gal, I know yer little game.

I wrapped me glad rags 'round me, an' to the docks did steer
I'll never court another maid, I'll stick to rum and beer!

I joined a Yankee bloodboat, an' sailed away next morn.
Don't fool around with Yankee girls, yer safer off Cape Horn

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