James P. Johnson / Flournoy E. Miller You don't act up too much Ain't got that glamour touch You're trifling lazy Ain't worth a cigarette ash Look out here mamma Look out here You carry me too fast You're just my good for nothin' 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 And you stay full of corn Just like a succotash What you want me to do in my idle moments You're just a good-for-nothin' But my sweet hunk o' trash 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? Cus, 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!
https://primoaccordo.net/billie-holiday/my-sweet-hunk-otrash.htm