O Peggy Gordon, You are my [bad word] sit you down upon my knee
And tell to me the very reason
Why I am slighted so by thee

I'm so in love that I can't deny it
My heart lies smothered in my breast
But it's not for you to let the world know it
troubled mind can know no rest

I put my head to a glass of brandy
It was my fancy, I do declare
For when I'm drinking, I'm always thinking
And wishing Peggy Gordon was here

I wish I was in some lonesome valley
Where womankind cannot be found
Where little birds sing upon the branches
And every moment has a different sound

O Peggy Gordon, You are my [bad word] sit you down upon my knee
And tell to me the very reason