Where The Black-Eyed Susans Grow
I know a plain old-fashioned farmhouse
Down a pretty little lane
Where Yellow Daisies make a pathway
Through the fields of golden grain
There, a little boy is waiting
Where I found him years ago
Something tells me that I'm welcome
Where the Black Eyed Susans grow
I'm going back to the shack
Where the Black Eyed Susans grow
I love them so
They're all around on the ground
Where I found the one I know, so long ago
The honeybees all know I'm I'm comin'
It seems I hear them softly hummin'
But they'll be losing their little Susan
So, they'd better be getting busy buzzing around
To stroll again down the lane
To the plain old rustic seat, they'll be treated
And then he'll bring out the ring
For the finger of his sweet, how mighty sweet
And when I'm tied to the pride of the countryside
Maybe he'll introduce you to my corn-fed bride
When I come back from the shack
Where the Black Eyed Susans grow
She's going back, back, back to the shack, shack, shack
Where the Black, Black, Black Susans grow
Sweet, sweet, sweet, she's a treat, treat, treat
I know that she's coming, listen to her humming
Strolling down the lane
To the plain old rustic seat, they'll be treated
And then he'll bring out the ring
For the finger of his sweet, how mighty sweet
And when I'm tied to the pride of the countryside
Maybe he'll introduce you to my corn-fed bride
When I come back (come back), from the shack (the shack)
Where the Black Eyed Susans grow
Down a pretty little lane
Where Yellow Daisies make a pathway
Through the fields of golden grain
There, a little boy is waiting
Where I found him years ago
Something tells me that I'm welcome
Where the Black Eyed Susans grow
I'm going back to the shack
Where the Black Eyed Susans grow
I love them so
They're all around on the ground
Where I found the one I know, so long ago
The honeybees all know I'm I'm comin'
It seems I hear them softly hummin'
But they'll be losing their little Susan
So, they'd better be getting busy buzzing around
To stroll again down the lane
To the plain old rustic seat, they'll be treated
And then he'll bring out the ring
For the finger of his sweet, how mighty sweet
And when I'm tied to the pride of the countryside
Maybe he'll introduce you to my corn-fed bride
When I come back from the shack
Where the Black Eyed Susans grow
She's going back, back, back to the shack, shack, shack
Where the Black, Black, Black Susans grow
Sweet, sweet, sweet, she's a treat, treat, treat
I know that she's coming, listen to her humming
Strolling down the lane
To the plain old rustic seat, they'll be treated
And then he'll bring out the ring
For the finger of his sweet, how mighty sweet
And when I'm tied to the pride of the countryside
Maybe he'll introduce you to my corn-fed bride
When I come back (come back), from the shack (the shack)
Where the Black Eyed Susans grow
Credits
Writer(s): Richard Whiting, Dave Radford
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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