I'm Going Back to the ShackSusan, you little SusanYou better be getting busy buzzing aroundTo stroll again down the laneTo the plain old rustic seatWill be a treatAnd then I'll bring out the ringFor the finger of my sweetShe's mighty sweetAnd when I'm tied to the prideOf the countrysideMaybe I'll introduce you to my confet brideWhen I get back to the shackWhere the black-eyed Susans growI know a plain old-fashioned farmhouseDown a pretty little laneWhere the daisies make a pathwayTo the fields of golden grainThere a little gal is thereWaitingWhere I found her years agoSomething tells me that I'm welcomeWhere the black-eyed Susans growI'm Going Back to the ShackWhere the black-eyed Susans growI love them soThey're all around on the groundWhere I found the one I knowSo long agoSo long agoThe honey bees all know I'm comingI seem to hear them softly hummingYou'll be losing your little SusanYou better be getting busyFuzzing aroundTo stroll again down the laneTo the plain old rustic seatWill be a treatAnd then I'll bring out the ringFor the finger of my sweetShe's mighty sweetAnd when I'm tied to the prideOf the countrysideMaybe I'll introduce you to my comfort brideWhen I get back to the shackWhere the black-eyed Susans grow