Louis Armstrong, Billie Holiday, Sy Oliver & His Orchestra - My Sweet Hunk O' Trash

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 there, mamma) (Look out there) (You carry me too fast, watch it, baby) You're just my good for nothin' My sweet hunk o' trash (My, my, how you sound) You're very short on looks (yeah, yeah, yeah) Dumb when it comes to books (Look out, baby) (Watch it, honey) And you stay full of corn Just like 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 butterfly 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 you 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 here, 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? (I don't know) 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 (Yeah, yeah, yeah, watch it, baby, watch it) You're just good-for-nothin' But you're my sweet hunk o' trash Yes, indeed