Oh I'm in love with the janitor's boy,

And the janitor's boy loves me;

He's going to hunt for a desert isle

In our geography.



A desert isle with spicy trees

Somewhere near Sheepshead Bay;

A right nice place, just fit for two

Where we can live always.



Oh I'm in love with the janitor's boy,

He's busy as he can be;

And down in the cellar he's making a raft

Out of an old settee.



He'll carry me off, I know that he will,

For his hair is exceedingly red;

And the only thing that occurs to me

Is to dutifully shiver in bed.



The day that we sail, I shall leave this brief note,

For my parents I hate to annoy:

"I have flown away to an isle in the bay

With the janitor's red-haired boy."