Walt Whitman's Niece

Last night or the night before that

I won't say which night

A seaman friend of mine

I'll not say which seaman

Walked up to a big old building

I won't say which building

Would not have walked up the stairs

Not to say which stairs

If there had not been two girls

Leaving out the names of those two girls

I recall a door, a big long room

I'll not tell which room

I remember a deep blue rug

But I can't say which rug

A girl took down a book of poems

Not to say which book of poems

And as she read, I laid my head

And I can't tell which head

Down in her lap

I can mention which lap

My seaman buddy and his girl moved off

After a couple of pages, and there I was

All night long, laying and listening

And forgetting the poems

And as well as I could recall

Or my seaman buddy could recollect

The girl had told us that she was a niece of Walt Whitman

But not which niece

And it takes a night and a girl

And a book of this kind

A long, long time to find its way back

Last night or the night before that

I won't say which night

A seaman friend of mine

I'll not say which seaman

Walked up to a big old building

I won't say which building

Would not have walked up the stairs

Not to say which stairs

If there had not been two girls

Leaving out the names of those two girls

I recall a door, a big long room

I'll not tell which room

I remember a deep blue rug

But I can't say which rug

A girl took down a book of poems

Not to say which book of poems

And as she read, I laid my head

And I can't tell which head

Down in her lap

I can mention which lap