| There’s a story told of a little Japanese |
| Sitting demurely ‘neath 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 there 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 |