Where goeth the sunshine of beautiful yesterday, When breezes blew light and all nature was gay. Now the birds are mute and refuse to sing, But down twinkles the snow to make the sleigh bells ring I’ll ask a simple question of you one and all, Where goeth the sunshine when the snow begins to fall?
Hush your mouth, don’t say a word, Let me tell the good news I heard. There’s going to be an outing soon Down where folks spend their honeymoon. Its given by the Dark Town club, And they serve chicken by the tub; Another thing their music’s grand, Drums, piano, and old tin pans, Get your ticket and don’t be late, Be at the landing prompt at eight.
Listen! listen! what’s all that noise Everybody’s going to Ginger Bay. There’s old Raz Jones with his slide trombone And you can hear him play it for miles away. Come on boy we’ll have some time, There’ll be lots of swell dancing, And they’ll serve you wine, And if the boat begins to rock Keep right on dancing, if you lose your frock, Be careful what you do When you get a drink or two. And when the boat pulls into land Take your partner by the hand And waltz her off at Ginger Bay.
My wife, oh! my wife, Was taught that game of cooking Some time early in her life. Its just as easy For her to cook a good meal As it is for you to ride In an automobile. It seems that it’s her pride To fix good eats, Such as roast pork and candied sweet tatoes, And apple pies, she can’t be beat. I can be so mad when I walk in, Lips all shot out, Hanging down on my chin, But the essence of that food Says why be thou so rude. Then henceforth and forever May thy grin. If you can keep from smiling When my wife makes apple pies, That’s more than I can do. She only makes that kind That melts on the tongue And passes by the thorax so easy, Till it makes the pallet hum. Telling the epiglottis That it don’t have to move Cause in this pie am plenty lard And sure am short and smooth. My Adam’s apple never works When I go to swallow; All the muscles in my neck Never touch my collar. Then it reaches the bottom of my heart And sounds the tune of joy And kills that word O’ Hunger When I’m penniless so often annoys. Now if you can keep from smiling When my wife makes apple pies That’s more than I can do.