Doo-doo-doo-doo
Doo-doo-doo-doo
Doo-doo-doo-doo
Doo-doo-doo-doo
Doo-doo-doo-doo
In the good old summertime
(Doo-doo-doo-doo, doo-doo)
In the good old summertime
(Doo-doo-doo-doo)
Strollin’ through the sha-ady lanes
(Doo-doo-doo-doo)
With my baby, mine
(Doo-doo-doo-doo)
I hold her hand and she-ee holds mine
(Doo-doo-doo-doo)
And that’s a very good sign
(Doo-doo-doo-doo)
That she’s my tootsy-wootsy in
A good old summertime
(Doo-doo-doo-doo, doo-doo)
In the good old summertime
(Doo-doo-doo-doo)
Strollin’ through the sha-ady lanes
(Doo-doo-doo-doo)
With my baby, mine
(Doo-doo-doo-doo)
I hold her hand and she-ee holds mine
(Doo-doo-doo-doo)
And that’s a very good sign
(Doo-doo-doo-doo)
That she’s my tootsy-wootsy in
A good old summertime
In the good old summmertime
In the good old summertime
(If I could go) Strollin’ down a shady lane
With my baby mine
I hold her hand
And he holds mine
And that’s a very good sign
That she’s your tootsy-wootsy
In the good old summertime
(Down shady lane)
In the good old summertime
(With baby mine)
In the good old summer – time
In the good old summertime
(If I could go) Strollin’ down a shady lane
With my baby mine
I hold her hand
And he holds mine
And that’s a very good sign
That she’s your tootsy-wootsy
In the good old summertime
(Down shady lane)
In the good old summertime
(With baby mine)
In the good old summer – time
192. IN THE GOOD OLD SUMMERTIME
_________________________________1902
IN THE GOOD OLD SUMMERTIME.
IN THE GOOD OLD SUMMERTIME.
STROLLING THROUGH THE SHADY LANES
WITH YOUR BABY MINE.
YOU HOLD HER HAND,
AND SHE HOLDS YOURS,
AND THAT’S A VERY GOOD SIGN,
THAT SHE’S YOUR TOOTSIE- WOOTSIE
IN THE GOOD OLD SUMMERTIME.
THE NEW-MOWN HAY
SENDS ALL IT’S FRAGRANCE
FROM THE FIELDS I USED TO ROAM.
WHEN I DREAM ABOUT
THE MOONLIGHT ON THE WABASH,
THEN I LONG FOR MY INDIANA HOME.
_________________________________1902
IN THE GOOD OLD SUMMERTIME.
IN THE GOOD OLD SUMMERTIME.
STROLLING THROUGH THE SHADY LANES
WITH YOUR BABY MINE.
YOU HOLD HER HAND,
AND SHE HOLDS YOURS,
AND THAT’S A VERY GOOD SIGN,
THAT SHE’S YOUR TOOTSIE- WOOTSIE
IN THE GOOD OLD SUMMERTIME.
THE NEW-MOWN HAY
SENDS ALL IT’S FRAGRANCE
FROM THE FIELDS I USED TO ROAM.
WHEN I DREAM ABOUT
THE MOONLIGHT ON THE WABASH,
THEN I LONG FOR MY INDIANA HOME.