I fell in love with a Persian girl
She had a dark and an almond shaped eye
But I never shall tell her my love for her
For by her own hand she has died

She was a fair and eccentric miss
She sang and danced so well
But all of her talents were swept away
When on that grave day, she fell

On April third in the year of eighteen
She met her untimely fate
With her Smith and Wesson in her lily-white hands
She entered the censor's gate

Calmly, silently, gracefully then
She raised her pistol up, so
With her three well-placed shots she had taken revenge
In the city of San Francisco

Determined and stalwart, she had chambered a round
Satisfied with her revenge
And with a faint smile she did take her own life
And her time here had come to an end

[Humming in background]
I love you still my dear Persian girl
I pine for you beyond the grave
And on every April third upon your tomb
A red rose for you I shall lay