Louis Armstrong Follow

You don't act up too much
My sweet hunk o' trash

My, my how you sound
You're very short on looks
Dumb, when it comes to books
Look out, baby, watch it, honey

You're just a good for nothin'
But my sweet hunk o' trash

And you stay full of corn
Just like a succotash
What you want me to do
In my idle moments

Let me get a word in there, honey
You running your mouth
You said I've worried you for years
I'm just a barfly moochin' beers

While you sweat over
A hot stove slinging hash
Work my fingers right down to the elbows
Yes, I may be good for nothin'

But I'm still your sweet hunk o' trash
First to admit it, baby

You said I spread my love all around
And with the chicks all over town
But, how can I when you keep me broke
So I can't spend no cash

Yes, I may be good for nothin'
But I'm still your sweet hunk o' trash

Listen hear pops
You know you lie about your youth
I don't lie, baby
I'm just careless with the truth, that's all

How careless can you be
Oh, no
With all your chicks, you try to make a flash
Now baby, it ain't like that, no

But you're still my good for nothin'
My sweet hunk o' trash

Now when you stay out very late
It sure makes me mad to wait
How come, baby?
'Cause, you come home too tired
To raise just one eyelash
Watch it, baby, watch it

You're just good for nothin'
But you're my sweet hunk o' trash
Yes indeed