Along the narrow Moorish street
A blue-eyed soldier strode.
(Ah, well-a-day)
Veiled from her lashes to her feet
She stepped from her abode,
(Ah, lack-a-day).

Now love may guard a favoured wife
Who leaves the harem door;
(Ah, well-a-day)
But hungry hearted is her life
When she is one of four.
(Ah, lack-a-day.)

If black eyes glow with sudden fire
And meet warm eyes of blue—
(Ah, well-a-day).
The old, old story of desire
Repeats itself anew.
(Ah, lack-a-day.)

When bugles blow the soldier flies—
Though bitter tears may fall
(Ah, lack-a-day).
A Moorish child with blue, blue eyes
Plays in the harem hall.
(Ah, well-a-day.)