It ripened by the river banks,
Where, mask and moonlight aiding,
Dons Blas’ and Juans play sad pranks,
Dark Donnas serenading.
By Moorish maiden it was plucked,
Who broke some hearts they say then:
By Saxon sweetheart it was sucked,
— Who flung the peel away then.
How should she know in Pimlico
Or t'other girl in Seville,
That I should reel upon that peel,
And wish them at the Devil!