O why are there eyes like these, 
That sparkle and dapple and tease, 
So wide with the morning, so deep with the night, 
Dancing and gleaming in passioned delight? 
O why are there eyes like these?

O why are there lips like these? 
Caressed by the southern breeze, 
That beckon and call and hold a slave 
All who therewith each soul-cry leave? 
O why are there lips like these?

O why are there arms like these? 
That crumple and crush as they please 
A weak man's heart, and in their embrace 
Bring a glow of red to a strong man's face? 
O why are there arms like these?