Copyright, 18968, by T. B. Harms & Co.
Words by Hugh Morton. Music by Gustave Kerker.
They say that my Nellie's a gay, young deceiver,
And I am but one of her beaux;
And ev'ry one tells me I'm wrong to believe her,
Her perfidy all the world knows,
But Nellie can twirl me around her small finger,
So great is her womanly art:
While tears of distress in her lovely eyes linger,
She whispers these words to my heart:
Truly, truly, I love you! Why do you treat me so cooly?
If you are not kinder I know what I'll do. I just will not speak to you, truly.
Truly, truly, I love you! Now don't say that I am unruly!
I'll cry and I'll die if you think I am not true, truly, truly.
They tell me that Nellie's a girl without feeling,
And likes to make fools of the men;
They say that my rivals her false heart are stealing,
And I am but one out of ten.
But when, in my auger, I set out to scold her,
She raises the bluest of eyes.
And laying her dear little head on my shoulder,
She whispers to me while she cries:-Chorus.