Walked up to a big old building
Down in her lap
I remember a deep blue rug
Not to say which stairs
And I wont say which building
And I wont say which building
Not to say which book of poems
And as she read, I laid my head
And would have not walked up the stairs
I recall a door, a big long room
I remember a deep blue rug
And it takes a night and a girl
And would have not walked up the stairs
Of Walt Whitman, but not which niece
Leaving out the names of those two girls
A seaman friend of mine
And as she read, I laid my head
And Ill not tell which room
A seaman friend of mine
And I cant tell which head
But I cant say which rug
My seaman buddy and his girl moved off
And there I was, all night long
If there had not been two girls
Walked up to a big old building
And Ill not say which seaman
After a couple of pages
Not to say which book of poems
And a book of this kind
But I cant tell which head
If there had not been two girls
A long, long time to find its way back
And Ill not tell which room
A girl took down a book of poems
The girl had told us that she was a niece
Not to say which stairs
Laying and listening and forgetting the poems
Or my seaman buddy could recollect
Last night or the night before that
And Ill not say which seaman
But I cant say which rug
Down in her lap
And as well as I could recall
A girl took down a book of poems
And I can't mention which lap
I recall a door, a big long room
Leaving out the names of those two girls
And I wont say which night
