Last night or the night before that
And I won’t say which night
A seaman friend of mine

And I’ll not say which seaman
Walked up to a big old building
And I won’t say which building
And would have not walked up the stairs

Not to say which stairs
If there had not been two girls
Leaving out the names of those two girls
I recall a door  a big long room
And I’ll not tell which room
I remember a deep blue rug

But I can’t say which rug

A girl took down a book of poems
Not to say which book of poems
And as she read  I laid my head

And I can’t tell which head

Down in her lap

And I can't mention which lap

My seaman buddy and his girl moved off
After a couple of pages

And there I was  all night long

Laying and listening and forgetting the poems

And as well as I could recall

Or my seaman buddy could recollect

The girl had told us that she was a niece
Of Walt Whitman  but not which niece

And it takes a night and a girl
And a book of this kind

A long  long time to find it’s way back

Last night or the night before that
And I won’t say which night
A seaman friend of mine

And I’ll not say which seaman
Walked up to a big old building
And I won’t say which building
And would have not walked up the stairs

Not to say which stairs
If there had not been two girls

Leaving out the names of those two girls
I recall a door  a big long room
And I’ll not tell which room
I remember a deep blue rug

But I can’t say which rug

A girl took down a book of poems

Not to say which book of poems
And as she read  I laid my head
But I can’t tell which head
Down in her lap

And I can't mention which lap