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.)