I’ve got so much honey the bees envy me;
I’ve got a sweeter song than the birds in the tree.
I guess you’ll say
What can make me feel this way?
My girl—I’m talking ’bout my girl.

Hey, hey, hey…
Hey, hey, hey…

I don’t need money, fortune, or fame;

I got all the riches, baby, that one man can claim.
I guess you’ll say
What can make me feel this way?
My girl (my girl, my girl)—talking ’bout my girl

(Hey, hey, hey—hey, hey, hey)
I’ve got so much honey the bees envy me
(Hey, hey, hey—hey, hey, hey)
I got a sweeter song than the birds in the tree
(Hey, hey, hey—hey, hey, hey)
Don’t need no fortune, no money or fame
(Hey, hey, hey…)
But when I got my girl…