My lass was christened Florence, but folks all call 'er Liz;
It seems to suit 'er better, though I don't know how it is:
You couldn't call 'er stylish, and she mayn't be very fair,
     But she's got such a way with 'er!

She's got the sort of lips that smile your moods away,
She's just the kind of laugh that makes a feller gay,
Her kiss is that infectious that yer neither know nor care,
     Oh! she's got such a way with 'er!

She's not the one to talk a lot of lover yer see,
And if a feller wants to sulk why then she lets him be,
She'll happen poke the fire a bit an' leave 'is slippers there -
     Oh! she's got such a way with 'er!