Poor Butterfly

There's a story told of a little Japanese
Sitting demurely 'neath the cherry blossom trees
Miss Butterfly's her name
A sweet little innocent child was she
When 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 the American way
Then 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 smiles through her tears
She murmurs low, "The moon and I
Know that he'll be faithful
I'm sure he'll come to her by and by
But if he don't come back
Then I'll never sigh or cry
I just must die"
Poor Butterfly