The rose of June can feel no sorrow,
It never droops or says ' Ah me! '
It never sees a sad to-morrow, '
But greets each day with rapture free.
Why should a girl so'young and charming,
Be less confiding than the rose?
For me this life holds naught alarming,
Each morning will new joys disclose.
I'm like the rose that blooms in June.
I give no thought to afternoon.
Like a rosebud red I can hang my head,
I can sway and pose like the drooping rose.
But I'm not the flow'r of a passing hour,
I'm a happy little singing girl,
I'm a jolly, pleasure-bringing girl.

REFRAIN

Dainty little Moozoo-May,
Clever little Moozoo-May,
When the shamosen I'm playing,
Come the men from far and near;
Most bewitching Moozoo-May,
Quite entrancing Moozoo-May,
Fascinating, captivating,
Little Moozoo-May.

The rose of June is not retiring,
It wears a manner most serene,
And smiles on other buds aspiring
To be as lovely as their queen.
Why should a girl of matchless beauty,
Her many charming traits disown?
If she excels it is her duty
To lift her head and bloom alone.
I'm like the rose in this respect.
A fragrant thing without defect.
Like a rosebud red I can hang my head,
I can sway and pose like the drooping rose.
But I'm not the flow'r of a passing hour,
I'm a happy little singing girl,
I'm a jolly, pleasure-bringing girl.