American Old Time Song Lyrics: 47 Da Da
Theater, Music-Hall, Nostalgic, Irish & Historic Old Songs, Volume 47
Copyright, 1894, by Charles W. Held.
Words by George Cooper. Music by W. H. Friday, Jr.
Oh, the birds of summer sing their song, and sweet it is to hear;
You could listen to it all day long, 'tis joy unto the ear;
But there's a lovelier song to me, when toils of day are o'er;
A tiny voice of melody, that greets me at the door.
Da-da! Da-da! that's what baby says;
Da-da! Da-da! oh, such pretty ways,
Shakes his little hands with glee,
Gives me kisses-one, two, three,
Happy as a bird when calling Da-da!
Though the day may weary seem and sad, there's rest for me at home,
For the baby's smile it makes me glad, when to my door I roam;
He holds his dimpled arms out so, and, with a cunning smile.
Begins to softly coo and crow, and murmur all the while:-Chorus.
Oh, I'd rather miss the light of day, the stars that grace the sky,
Than to miss this word I hear him say, when toil for me goes by;
Before his pretty eye-lids close, at twilight's tranquil fall;
While, like a flower, he seeks repose, I hear the baby call:- Chorus.