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?