I'm as loyal a subject as Britain can boast;
Our Queen she is gracious, and gentle, and wise;
But another this moment demandeth my toast,—
'Tis Annie, the lass with the two hazel eyes.

The hair of my idol's a stream of delight,
The lustre thereof with the aerolite vies;
Her dimpled cheeks apples, the pure red and white;
But these are outshone by her two hazel eyes.

Her breasts are two hillocks of new-driven snow,
Between them a dell of enchantment lies,
Where love lurks, the elf ! with his death-darts, but no—
These cannot be named with her two hazel eyes.

The golden-eyed lily but faintly displays
The grace of her form, her demeanour, and guise;
A jewel is she in heart, language, and ways;
But nothing can equal her two hazel eyes.

I'm as loyal a subject as Britain can boast;
Victoria's gentle, gracious, and wise;
But another this moment demanded my toast,—
I drink to the lass with the two hazel eyes.