She had a dark and a roving eye
And her hair hung down in ring-a-lets
She was a nice girl, a proper girl
But - one of the roving kind.

As I cruised out one evening upon a night's career
I spied a lofty clipper ship and to her I did steer
I heisted out my signals, which she so quickly knew
And when she saw my bunting flag, she immediately hove to