THE man of his word met a maid on the beach,
I The fine art of swimming he offered to teach
If she ‘d go with him in the water so blue.
She sighed and said: ‘ Mister, if I go with you,
You must promise me faithfully here on the sands
That you won’t splash the water at me with your hands;
You must honestly, solemnly vow and declare
That whatever you do you will not wet my hair.’
So the man of his word, who had offered to teach
The gay little, sweet little maid on the beach,
Took an oath that he wouldn’t splash water on her,
Or let any total immersion occur.
And the sweet little maid started gayly with him
To be taught how to float and be taught how to swim;
And the man of his word kept the vows that he swore,
He never once dampened the hair that she wore.
Alas, and alack! for the man of his word,
Next day came another who vowed and averred
That he wouldn’t splash her or douse her, not he,
If she ‘d only venture with him in the sea,
Which she did; but out there he forgot every oath,
For he doused her and splashed her, yes sir, he did both.
But did she rare up in her anger? Not she —
Every morning you’ll find her with him in the sea,
While the man of his word sits alone on the beach,
And the bold, faithless wretch soon will marry the peach.
