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The Janitors Boy |
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Oh I'm in love with the janitor's boy, |
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And the janitor's boy loves me; |
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He's going to hunt for a desert isle |
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In our geography. |
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A desert isle with spicy trees |
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Somewhere near Sheepshead Bay; |
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A right nice place, just fit for two |
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Where we can live always. |
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Oh I'm in love with the janitor's boy, |
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He's busy as he can be; |
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And down in the cellar he's making a raft |
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Out of an old settee. |
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He'll carry me off, I know that he will, |
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For his hair is exceedingly red; |
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And the only thing that occurs to me |
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Is to dutifully shiver in bed. |
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The day that we sail, I shall leave this brief note, |
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For my parents I hate to annoy: |
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"I have flown away to an isle in the bay |
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With the janitor's red-haired boy'' |
