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.