Of all the pretty maidens
There ne'er was lassie yet
That looked so sweet and sprightly,
That moved so gay and lightly,
As my darling, my Lisette,—
Little pet!—
'Tis Lisette whom I adore,
And with reason, more and more!
Her face it is her fortune,—
But who will smiling let
Me kiss it at my pleasure,
Nor ever stint the measure?—
'Tis my darling, my Lisette,—
Little pet!—
'Tis Lisette whom I adore,
And with reason, more and more!
Along the pavement tripping,
Through sunshine and through wet,
To all, as she advances,
Who casts her winning glances?—
'Tis my darling, my Lisette,—
Little pet!—
'Tis Lisette whom I adore,
And with reason, more and more!

To blind, and poor, and crippled,
Who gives, without regret,
Her bread, and does not sorrow
That she must starve to-morrow?—
'Tis my darling, my Lisette,—
Little pet!—
'Tis Lisette whom I adore,
And with reason, more and more!
Who oftentimes deceives me,
Though truly no coquette,—
And then, for me, who hoaxes,
Cajoles, and dupes, and coaxes?—
'Tis my darling, my Lisette,—
Little pet!—
'Tis Lisette whom I adore,
And with reason, more and more!
Who, by her tender teaching,
Has aided me to get
The impudence and passion
Of which my songs I fashion?—
'Tis my darling, my Lisette,—
Little pet!—
'Tis Lisette whom I adore,
And with reason, more and more!
On week-days and on Sundays,
Who, in my hovel set,
Can turn its corners gloomy
To a palace rich and roomy?—

'Tis my darling, my Lisette,—
Little pet!—
'Tis Lisette whom I adore,
And with reason, more and more!
When Prudence o'er our playtime
Would hold a distant threat,—
'Twixt now and what comes after,
Who throws her merry laughter?—
'Tis my darling, my Lisette,—
Little pet!—
'Tis Lisette whom I adore,
And with reason, more and more!