What is flirtation? Really, How can I tell you that?

But when she smiles I see its wiles, And when he lifts his hat.

'Tis walking in the moonlight, 'Tis buttoning on a glove, 'Tis lips that speak of plays next week, While eyes are talking love.

'Tis meeting in the ball-room, 'Tis whirling in the dance;'Tis something hid beneath the lid More than a simple glance.

'Tis lingering in the hallway, 'Tis sitting on the stair, 'Tis bearded lips on finger-tips, If mamma isn't there.

'Tis tucking in the carriage, 'Tis asking for a call;'Tis long good-nights in tender lights, And that is--no, not all!

'Tis parting when it's over, And one goes home to sleep;Best joys must end, tra la, my friend, But one goes home to weep!