And who's your rovin' red-hot mama, hey."
What d'ya call her, Sal, Irene, or May"
Confess who is she, Percy Bysshe,
The public likes that sorta dish:
Give 'em what they want, that's what I say:
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Here's How
Lordy, how I miss you, Honey.
Since you went away.
Wow! I'm feelin' awful funny
Ev'ry night and day.
Leave your southern mammy, Trixy,
Come on back from down in Dixie
Lovin' mem'ries fill me, thrill me.
But at last they chill me, kill me.
I've got those wiggledy woos,
Those Gee-why don't you-come-back blues.