Last night or the night before that,
I wont say which night
A seaman friend of mine,
Ill not say which seaman,
Walked up to a big old building,
I wont say which building,
And would have not walked up the stairs,
Not to say which stairs,
If there had not been two girls,
Leaving out the names of those two girls.

I recall a door, a big long room,
Ill not tell which room,
I remember a deep blue rug,
But I cant say which rug,
A girl took down a book of poems,
Not to say which book of poems,
And as she read, I lay my head,
And I cant tell which head,
Down in her lap, and I can mention which lap

My seaman buddy and girl moved off
After a couple of pages and there I was,
All night long, laying and listening
And forgetting the poems.
And as well as I could recall
Or my seaman buddy could recollect,
My girl had told us that she was a niece,
Of walt whitman, but now which niece,
And it takes a night and a girl
And a book of this kind
A long long time to find its way back

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