Where is the Land of Kisses,
Can you tell, tell, tell?
Ah, yes; I know its blisses
Very well!
'Tis not beneath the swinging
Of the Jessamine,
Where gossip-birds sit singing
In the vine!
Where is the Land of Kisses,
Do you know, know, know?
Is it such a land as this is?
No, truly no!
Nor is it 'neath the Myrtle,
Where each butterfly
Can brush your lady's kirtle,
Flitting by!
Where is the Land of Kisses,
Can you say, say, say?
Yes; there a red lip presses
Mine ev'ry day!
But 'tis not where the Pansies
Open purple eyes,
And gossip all their fancies
To the skies!
I know the Land of Kisses
Passing well, well, well;
Who seeks it often misses—
Let me tell.
Fly, lover, like a swallow,
Where your lady goes;
You'll find it if you follow,
'Neath the Rose.