Down beside the Dardanella Bay,
Where Oriental breezes play,
There lives a lonesome maid, Armenian.
By the Dardanelles with glowing eyes,
She looks across the seas and sighs,
And weaves her love spell so Sirenian.
Soon I shall return to Turkestan,
I will ask for her heart and hand:
Oh sweet Dardanella I love your harem eyes,
I’m a lucky fellow to capture such a prize,
Oh, Allah knows, my love for you
And he tells you to be true,
Dardanella, hear my sigh, my Oriental,
Oh sweet Dardanella, prepare the wedding wine,
There’ll be one girl in my harem, when you’re mine,
We’ll build a tent
Just like the children of the Orient.
Oh sweet Dardanella, my star of love divine.
When the Turkish Sultan saw her eyes,
Oh he was taken by surprise,
He said I’ll buy her for my harem.
I just told the Sultan to be nice,
She can’t be bought for any price,
She said to me she couldn’t bear him.
So I beneath the Oriental moon,
I’ll be wooing my love real soon: