Her eyes they shine like the diamonds,
You’d think she was Queen of the land
And her hair bung over her shoulder,
Tied up with a black velvet band.
As I went walking on Broadway,
Not tending to stay very long,
I met with a quarrelsome damsel,
As she came tripping along,
And what she pulled out of her pocket,
And slipped right into my hand,
On the very first day that I met her,
Bad luck to her black velvet band.