She'll Only Whistle Until You're Gone

Forty nights up in the pen
Two I'm a'walking home
Home to see my own true love
Waiting at the phone.

I cakewalked through the garden gate
up to my mountain home:
there's cobwebs on the cabin door,
dustballs in the rum.

Fruitflies in the butterdish
Dustballs in the rum
Cobwebs on the cabin door
My true love's left and gone.

Most hurriedly I strolled to town
to see what could I find
Long come my old coocheecoo
with a friend of mine

Now, never leave your gal alone
to simmer for too long
for like water in a kettle pot
she'll only whistle till your gone.

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