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. )