Bill Bailey, Won't You Please Come Home?

On one summer's day Sun was shining fine, The lady love of old Bill Bailey was hanging clothes on de line In her back yard, and weeping hard; She married a B. and O. brakeman, Dat took and throw'd her down, Bellering like a prune-fed calf, wid a big gang hanging 'round; And to dat crowd, She yelled out loud:

Won't you come home, Bill Bailey, won't you come home? She moans de whole day long; I'll do de cooking, darling, I'll pay de rent; I knows I've done you wrong; 'Member dat rainy eve dat I drove you out, Wid nothing but a fine tooth comb? I knows I'se to blame; well, ain't dat a shame? Bill Bailey, won't you please come home?

Bill drove by dat door, In an automobile, A great big diamond, coach and footman, hear dat big wench squeal: "He's all alone," I heard her groan; She hollered thro' that door, "Bill Bailey, is you sore? Stop a minute; won't you listen to me? Won't I see you no more?" Bill winked his eye, As he heard her cry:

Won't you come home, Bill Bailey, won't you come home? She moans de whole day long; I'll do de cooking, darling, I'll pay de rent; I knows I've done you wrong; 'Member dat rainy eve dat I drove you out, Wid nothing but a fine tooth comb? I knows I'se to blame; well, ain't dat a shame? Bill Bailey, won't you please come home?