She bent down and turned around and gave me a wink.
She said, "I'll make it up for you right here in the sink."
It smelled like turpentine and looked like India ink.
I held my nose, I closed my eyes, I took a drink.
I didn't know if it was day or night.
I started kissing everything in sight.
But when I kissed the cop down on 34th and Vine
He broke my little bottle of Love Potion #9.
> Raven hair and ruby lips...
And still of a winter’s night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding—
Riding—riding—
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard.
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred.
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord’s daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.