And Jessie’s eyes are, oh, so blue
And full of sweet revealings —
They seem to look you through and through
And read your inmost feelings;
No gray inspires such ardent fires,
Nor brown such truth expresses —
Admit it, all ye gallant squires:
There are no eyes like Jessie’s.
Her voice (like liquid beams that roll
From moonland to the river)
Steals subtly to the raptured soul,
Therein to lie and quiver;
Or falls upon the grateful ear
With chaste and warm caresses —
Ah, all concede the truth (who hear):
There’s no such voice as Jessie’s.
Of other charms she hath such store
All rivalry excelling,
Though I used adjectives galore,
They’d fail me in the telling;
But now discretion stays my hand —
Adieu, eyes, voice, and tresses.
Of all the husbands in the land
There’s none so fierce as Jessie’s.