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Musical: Flower Drum Song
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I am a vagabond sailor, All my friends call me "sport." I am a fellow for action, Any storm in a port. (Any storm in a port, ha?... Back to the laundry!) Now that I'm home and I'm resting Home from over the sea, All of the girls who adored me Go gliding through my memoree. A sweet colleen from Ireland, Her hair was fiery red, Her eyes gave out a green light That said I could go ahead. (Say somehing in Irish. -- Elin go Blah.) I met a girl in Sweden Of whom I grew quite fond, A stately Scandinavian type, A buxom, blue-eyed blonde. And then in merry England, A girl who worshipped me, Gliding through me memoree; That's how I see them, Gliding through me memoree! In sunny Barcelona, A dancing chick I picked. Her castanets were clicking Like nothing ever clicked. (--Ole!-- You can say that again!) A very friendly ma'mselle, In oo-la-la Paree, She was a girl who couldn't say Anything but --Oui!-- 'Twas fun to cast an anchor In lovely Casablancer. I loved a Grecian doll and Another doll in Holland, But of all the girls in ev'ry hemisphere There is no one like the girl have right here.
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