|
There's a story told of a little Japanese |
|
Sitting demurely beneath the cherry blossom trees |
|
Miss Butterfly her name |
|
A sweet little innocent child was she |
|
Till a fine young American from the sea |
|
To her garden came |
|
They met 'neath the cherry blossoms, every day |
|
And he taught her how to love in the American way |
|
To love with a soul was easy to learn |
|
And he sailed away with a promise to return |
|
Poor Butterfly |
|
'Neath the blossoms waiting |
|
Poor Butterfly |
|
For she loved him so |
|
The moments pass into hours |
|
The hours pass into years |
|
And as she smiled through her tears |
|
She murmured low |
|
The moon and I |
|
Knew that he'd be faithful |
|
She knew he'd come |
|
To a by and by |
|
But if he n'er came back |
|
She'd never sigh or cry |
|
She just would die |
|
Poor Butterfly |
|
But if he n'er came back |
|
She'd never sigh or cry |
|
She just would die |
|
Poor Butterfly |
