In Cuba, each merry maid
Wakes up with, this serenade,
Peanuts! They’re nice and hot,
Peanuts!
I sell a lot.
If you haven’t got bananas don’t be blue,
Peanuts in a little bag are calling you.
Don’t waste them,
No tummy ache,
You’ll taste them,
When you awake,
For at the very break of day,
The peanut vendor’s on his way.
At dawning, that whistle blows,
Through every city, town and country lane,
You’ll hear him sing his plaintive little strain,
And as he goes by to you he’ll say:
Big Jumbos, big double ones,
Come buy those
Peanuts roasted to day,
Come try those
Freshly roasted today!
If you’re looking for a moral for this song,
Fifty million little monkeys can’t be wrong.
Peanuts! We’ll meet again,
Peanuts! I’ll sing again,
Peanuts! We’ll eat again,
Your peanut man,
That peanut man’s gone.
Hey!
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