OH, de weathah it is balmy an' de breeze
is sighin' low.
Li'l' gal,
An' de mockin' bird is singin' in de
locus'
by de do',
Li'l' gal;
Dere 's a hummin' an' a bummin' in de
lan' f''om eas' to wes',
I 's a-sighin' fu' you, honey, an' I nevah
know no res'.
Fu' dey 's lots o' trouble brewin' an'
a-stewin' in my breas',
Li'l' gal.
Whut 's de mattah wid de weathah,
whut 's de mattah wid de breeze,
Li'l' gal?
Whut 's de mattah wid de locus dat 's
a-singin in de trees,
Li'l' gal?
W'y dey knows dey ladies love 'em an'
dey knows dey love 'em true,
An dey love em back, I reckon, des' lak
I 's a-lovin' you;
Dat 's de reason dey 's a-weavin' an' a-
sighin', thoo an' thoo,
Li'l' gal.
Don't you let no da'ky fool you 'cause de
clo'es he waihs is fine,
Li'l' gal.
Dey 's a hones' hea't a-beatin' unnerneaf
dese rags o' mine,
Li'l' gal.
C'ose dey ain' no use in mockin' whut de
birds an' weathah do,
But I 's so'y I cain't 'spress it w'en I
knows I loves you true,
Dat 's de reason I 's a-sighin' an'
a-singin'
now fu' you,
Li'l' gal.
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