| On one summer’s day, sun was shining fine.
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| The lady love of old Bill Bailey was hanging clothes
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| On de line in her back yard and weeping hard.
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| She married a B. and O. brakeman,
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| Dat took and throw’d her down.
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| Bellering like a prune-fed calf wid a big gang hangin' 'round.
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| And to dat crowd, she yelled out loud:
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| Won’t you come home, Bill Bailey, won’t you come home
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| She moans the whole day long
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| I’ll do de cooking, darling I’ll pay de rent
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| I knows I’ve done you wrong
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| Member dat rainy eve dat I drove you out
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| Wid nothin' but a fine tooth comb
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| I knows I’se to blame, well, ain’t dat a shame
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| Bill Bailey, won’t you please come home |