Poor Butterfly

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 murmers low,

"The moon and I know that he'll be faithful;

I'm sure he'll come back, by and by.

But if he don't come back, then I never sigh or cry--

I just must die." Poor Butterfly.