under my bed you can touch our little satchel
on my head come lay your little hand
you will be my own true lover
I will be your loving little man
run to the house and ask your papa
bride of mine you'll ever be
if he says no come back and tell me
and I'll wait till you'll get free
when you'll get free well then we'll get married
look how happy we will be
or we'll go to california
any place you want to go
over these prison walls I would fly
fly oh back to the arms of my darling
stay at home and there I would die
as you can see I'm no little angel
neither have I wings to fly
I'll go back all broken hearted
weep and moan until I die
under my bed you can touch our little satchel
on my head come lay your little hand
you will be my own true lover
I will be your loving little man