| Song | Poor Butterfly |
| Artist | Sarah Vaughan |
| Album | Sarah Vaughan's Golden Hits |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| There's a story told of a little Japanese. | |
| Sitting demurely 'neath the cherry blossom trees. | |
| Miss Butterfly's her name. | |
| A sweet little innocent child was she | |
| 'Till a fine young American from the sea | |
| To her garden came. | |
| They met 'neath the cherry blossoms everyday. | |
| And he taught her how to love the American way. | |
| To love with her soul t'was easy to learn. | |
| Then he sailed away with a promise to return. | |
| Poor butterfly | |
| 'Neath the blossoms waiting. | |
| Poor Butterfly | |
| For she loved him so. | |
| The moments pass into hours. | |
| The hours pass into years. | |
| And as she smiles through her tears, | |
| She murmurs low: | |
| The moon and I know that he'll be faithful | |
| I'm sure he'll come to me by and by. | |
| But if he won't come back then I'll never sigh or cry, | |
| I just must die. | |
| Poor butterfly. |
| There s a story told of a little Japanese. | |
| Sitting demurely neath the cherry blossom trees. | |
| Miss Butterfly s her name. | |
| A sweet little innocent child was she | |
| Till a fine young American from the sea | |
| To her garden came. | |
| They met neath the cherry blossoms everyday. | |
| And he taught her how to love the American way. | |
| To love with her soul t was easy to learn. | |
| Then he sailed away with a promise to return. | |
| Poor butterfly | |
| Neath the blossoms waiting. | |
| Poor Butterfly | |
| For she loved him so. | |
| The moments pass into hours. | |
| The hours pass into years. | |
| And as she smiles through her tears, | |
| She murmurs low: | |
| The moon and I know that he ll be faithful | |
| I m sure he ll come to me by and by. | |
| But if he won t come back then I ll never sigh or cry, | |
| I just must die. | |
| Poor butterfly. |
| There s a story told of a little Japanese. | |
| Sitting demurely neath the cherry blossom trees. | |
| Miss Butterfly s her name. | |
| A sweet little innocent child was she | |
| Till a fine young American from the sea | |
| To her garden came. | |
| They met neath the cherry blossoms everyday. | |
| And he taught her how to love the American way. | |
| To love with her soul t was easy to learn. | |
| Then he sailed away with a promise to return. | |
| Poor butterfly | |
| Neath the blossoms waiting. | |
| Poor Butterfly | |
| For she loved him so. | |
| The moments pass into hours. | |
| The hours pass into years. | |
| And as she smiles through her tears, | |
| She murmurs low: | |
| The moon and I know that he ll be faithful | |
| I m sure he ll come to me by and by. | |
| But if he won t come back then I ll never sigh or cry, | |
| I just must die. | |
| Poor butterfly. |