Last night or the night before that   And I won?t say which night   A seaman friend of mine   And I?ll not say which seaman   Walked up to a big old building   And I won?t say which building      And would have not 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   And 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   And I can't 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 it?s way back      Last night or the night before that   And I won?t say which night   A seaman friend of mine   And I?ll not say which seaman   Walked up to a big old building   And I won?t say which building      And would have not 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   And 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   But I can?t tell which head   Down in her lap   And I can't mention which lap