As I walked down through Chatham Street
A fair maid I did meet.
She asked me to see her home,
She lived in Bleeker Street.
To me way, you Santy,
My dear Annie
Oh you New York girls,
Can't you dance the polka?
To me way, you Santy,
my dear Annie
Oh you New York girls,
Can't you dance the polka?
And when we got to Bleeker Street,
We stopped at forty four.
Her mother and her sister there
To meet her at the door.
To me way, you Santy,
My dear Annie
Oh you New York girls,
Can't you dance the polka?
To me way, you Santy,
my dear Annie
Oh you New York girls,
Can't you dance the polka?
And when I got inside the house,
The drinks were passed around.
The liquor was so awful strong,
My head went round and round.
To me way, you Santy,
My dear Annie
Oh you New York girls,
Can't you dance the polka?
To me way, you Santy,
my dear Annie
Oh you New York girls,
Can't you dance the polka?
And then we had another drink
Before we sat to eat.
The liquor was so awful strong,
I quickly fell asleep.
To me way, you Santy,
My dear Annie
Oh you New York girls,
Can't you dance the polka?
To me way, you Santy,
my dear Annie
Oh you New York girls,
Can't you dance the polka?
When I awoke next morning,
I had an aching head.
There was I Jack-all-alone,
Stark naked in my bed.
To me way, you Santy,
My dear Annie
Oh you New York girls,
Can't you dance the polka?
To me way, you Santy,
my dear Annie
Oh you New York girls,
Can't you dance the polka?
My gold watch and my pocket-book
and lady friends were gone.
And there was I Jack-all-alone,
Stark naked in my room.
To me way, you Santy,
My dear Annie
Oh you New York girls,
Can't you dance the polka?
To me way, you Santy,
my dear Annie
Oh you New York girls,
Can't you dance the polka?
On looking round this little room,
There's nothing I could see,
But a woman's shift and apron
They were no use to me.
To me way, you Santy,
My dear Annie
Oh you New York girls,
Can't you dance the polka?
To me way, you Santy,
my dear Annie
Oh you New York girls,
Can't you dance the polka?
With a flour barrel for a suit of clothes
Down Cherry Street forlorn,
There Martin Churchill took me in
And sent me round Cape Horn.
To me way, you Santy,
My dear Annie
Oh you New York girls,
Can't you dance the polka?
To me way, my honey,
my dear Annie
Oh you New York girls,
Can't you dance the polka?