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On a Sunday morn sat a maid forlorn |
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With her sweetheart by her side, |
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Through the windowpane, she looked at the rain, |
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"We must stay home, Joe," she cried. |
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"There's a picnic, too, at the old Point View, |
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It's a shame it rained today." |
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Then the boy drew near, kissed away each tear, |
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And she heard him softly say: |
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"Wait till the sun shines, Nellie, |
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When the clouds go drifting by, |
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We will be happy, Nellie, |
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Don't you sigh. |
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Down Lover's Lane we'll wander, |
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Sweethearts you and I. |
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Wait till the sun shines, Nellie, |
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Bye and bye." |
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"How I long," she sighed, "for a trolley ride |
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Just to show my brand new gown." |
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Then she gazed on high with a gladsome cry |
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For the sun came shining down. |
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And she looked so sweet on the big front seat |
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As the car sped on its way, |
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And she whispered low, |
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"Say you're all right, Joe, |
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You just won my heart today." |
