All the birds are singin' in the mornin' trees
But the birds are not singin' for me
My man did meet with a flirt on the street
Gave him a case of VD
I begged him to look up a doctor and go
It broke out all over his skin
But he rubbed himself with some dark drugstore salve
And he said, "It's not the VD"
"I've been in the Army, in the Merchant Marines
My dear life long enough to know
That little red, little, little hot rashes that burn on my skin
Are not the VD, I'm sure"
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