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Listen to The Blues Are Brewin' by Billie Holiday
ALBUMThe Blues Are Brewin'Billie Holiday
Listen to Billie Holiday: Deep Cuts featuring Billie Holiday
PLAYLISTBillie Holiday: Deep CutsApple Music Jazz
Listen to Billie Holiday: Chill featuring Billie Holiday
PLAYLISTBillie Holiday: ChillApple Music Jazz
Listen to James P. Johnson Essentials featuring Billie Holiday
PLAYLISTJames P. Johnson EssentialsApple Music Jazz

Top Songs By Billie Holiday

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Louis Armstrong
Louis Armstrong
Vocals
Billie Holiday
Billie Holiday
Lead Vocals
Sy Oliver and His Orchestra
Sy Oliver and His Orchestra
Orchestra
Sy Oliver
Sy Oliver
Music Director
Everett Barksdale
Everett Barksdale
Guitar
Bernie Privin
Bernie Privin
Trumpet
Art Drellinger
Art Drellinger
Tenor Saxophone
Billy Kyle
Billy Kyle
Piano
Jimmy Crawford
Jimmy Crawford
Drums
Joe Benjamin
Joe Benjamin
Bass
Johnny Mince
Johnny Mince
Alto Saxophone
Pat Nizza
Pat Nizza
Tenor Saxophone
Sid Cooper
Sid Cooper
Alto Saxophone
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Flourney E. Miller
Flourney E. Miller
Composer
James P. Johnson
James P. Johnson
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Milt Gabler
Milt Gabler
Producer

Lyrics

You don't add 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 nothing
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 succotash
Well, what you want me to do in my idle moments?
You're just a good for nothing
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 mooching beers
While you sweat over a hot stove slinging hash
Worked my fingers right down to the elbows
Yes, I may be good for nothing
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 nothing
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?
I don't know
With all young chicks, you try to make a flash
Now, baby, it ain't like that, no
But you're still my good for nothing
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
Watch it, baby, watch it
You're just good for nothing
But you're my sweet hunk o' trash
Yes, indeed!
Written by: Flourney E. Miller, James P. Johnson

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