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

'Till a fine young American from the sea

To her garden came They met 'neath the cherry blossoms everyday

And he taught her how to love the American way

To love with her soul, 'twas easy to learn

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 me by and by

But if he won't come back then, then I'll never sigh or cry

I just must die, poor Butterfly