MY SUMURUN GIRL
Jim Ephraim Gray saw the play “Sumurun,” And like the lovers there
With funny style, all the while, saw him win and get his lady fair.
“That goes for me,” then said he, “Wait and see, I’m going to make her care,
I will make dreamy eyes with low mournful sighs and a baby stare.”
In Sunday best, he got dressed and went out beneath her balcony,
He said, “My dear, I am here, Come on down, don’t let your father see.
Your name is Flo, still I know, Sumurun you’re going to be to me,
Oh, come leave your old Sheik, Can’t you hear me speak so tenderly.
You’re my lovey, dovey hon’,
You’re all my dreams made into one.
When my face with loving lights,
You’ll think of those Arabian Nights,
My Sumurun, Sumurun,
Say that you’ll hear my pleading croon,
I’ll dress like the signs upon the Mogul cigarette,
I will show you loving that you never will forget,
If you’ll come along, My Sumurun Girl.
Flo raised the sash, saw her mash, down below, and only laughed at him.
You are in wrong with that song, and I guess you must be drinking, Jim,
That eastern stuff is a bluff, and I think your mind is growing dim,
And your new loving game is awfully tame, your chance is slim.
Those Arab boys, had some joys years ago upon their Eastern flat.
Now they’re passe, in a way, ev’ry one is just an acrobat,
They do not know how to show loving ways, they must take off their hat,
So don’t stop, come and sing that “Way Down East” thing you had so pat.