I've kissed many girls under many conditions, I've kissed them, both, with and without their permission, But never a one for a moment compares, With the girl that I kissed, in the dark, on the stairs. It was just round the corner, a sudden sharp turning, They'd kindly forgotten to leave a light burning. We met with a bump, both taken unawares, Somehow or other, we kissed on the stairs. Was she fair? Was she dark? Was she mistress or maid? An innocent schoolgirl? A heartbreaking jade? I've never discovered but who on Earth cares? Enough that we met and we kissed on the stairs. She didn't say yes and she didn't say no, But she clung pretty close and she didn't let go. Now, the lover who wins is the lover who dares, So I kissed her again on the lips, and the stairs. Her lips were so soft and her skin oh, so creamy, While, as to her eyes... I'll bet they were dreamy. But, of course, total darkness your vision impairs, You don't want to look when you kiss on the stairs. For a moment or so, she clung pretty tight, And up on the landing, some fool struck a light. And swearing the softest of feminine swears, She kissed me and left me, alone on the stairs. Oh, it's long, long ago and I'm fast growing old, And girls nowadays leave me out in the cold. So I just close my eyes to such mundane affairs, And fancy I'm kissing... that girl on the stairs.

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