Poor Butterfly - Helen Merrill, Gordon Beck

There’s a story told of a little Japanese

Sitting demurely beneath 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 as 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