She'll
Only Whistle Until You're Gone
Forty nights up in the pen
Two I'm a'walking home
Home to see my own true love
Waiting at the phone.
I
cakewalked through the garden gate
up to my mountain home:
there's cobwebs on the cabin door,
dustballs in the rum.
Fruitflies
in the butterdish
Dustballs in the rum
Cobwebs on the cabin door
My true love's left and gone.
Most
hurriedly I strolled to town
to see what could I find
Long come my old coocheecoo
with a friend of mine
Now,
never leave your gal alone
to simmer for too long
for like water in a kettle pot
she'll only whistle till your gone.
