| |
|
|
| |
|
|
| |
On one summer's day, the sun was
shining fine.
The lady love of old Bill Bailey was hanging clothes on the line
In her back yard, and weeping hard.
She married a B & O brakeman that took and throw'd her down.
Bellering like a prune-fed calf with a big gang hanging 'round;
And to that crowd she yelled out loud.
|
Won't you come home Bill Bailey,
won't you come home?
She moans the whole day long.
I'll do the cooking darling, I'll pay the rent;
I knows I've done you wrong;
Member that rainy eve that I drove you out,
With nothing but a fine tooth comb?
I know I'se to blame; well ain't that a shame?
Bill Bailey won't you please come home?
|
Bill drove by that door in an
automobile,
A great big diamond coach and footman, hear that big wench
squeal;
"He's all alone," I heard her groan.
She hollered through that door, "Bill Bailey is you sore?
Stop a minute; won't you listen to me? Won't I see you no more?"
Bill winked his eye, as he heard her cry:
|
Won't you come home Bill Bailey,
won't you come home?
She moans the whole day long.
I'll do the cooking darling, I'll pay the rent;
I knows I've done you wrong;
Member that rainy eve that I drove you out,
With nothing but a fine tooth comb?
I know I'se to blame; well ain't that a shame?
Bill Bailey won't you please come home?
|
|
|
|
