Oh, de weathah it is balmy an' de breeze is sighin' low. Li'l' gal, An' de mockin' bird is singin' in de locus' by de do', Li'l' gal; Dere 's a hummin' an' a bummin' in de lan' f'om eas' to wes', I 's a-sighin' fu' you, honey, an' I nevah know no res'. Fu' dey 's lots o' trouble brewin' an' a-stewin' in my breas', Li'l' gal. Whut 's de mattah wid de weathah, whut's de mattah wid de breeze, Li'l' gal? Whut 's de mattah wid de locus' dat 's a-singin' in de trees, Li'l' gal? W'y dey knows dey ladies love 'em, an' dey knows dey love 'em true, An' dey love 'em back, I reckon, des' lak I 's a-lovin' you; Dat 's de reason dey 's a-weavin' an' a-sighin', thoo an' thoo, Li'l' gal. Don't you let no da'ky fool you cause de clo'es he waihs is fine, Li'l' gal. Dey 's a hones' hea't a-beatin' unnerneaf dese rags o' mine, Li'l' gal. Cose dey ain' no use in mockin' whut de birds an' weathah do, But I 's so'y I cain't 'spress it w'en I knows I loves you true, Dat 's de reason I 's a-sighin' an' a-singin now fu' you, Li'l' gal.