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Strut-tin’ with some bar-be-que,
Swing-in’ with the band; Like the hap-py peo-ple do Way down in dix-ie land Hear that ol’ trom-bone And the trum-pet ad-lib. Love to hear the lick, While I do my pick-in’ Pick-in’ on a jui-cy rib. ‘Cause I'm Strut-tin with some bar-be-que, feel-in' might-y grand; pass an-oth-er help-in’ please, of that good ol’ dix-ie land. And mis-ter wait-er if you please An-oth-er rib or two; And I’ll go strut, strut, strut-tin, Strut-tin' with some bar-be-que REPEAT |
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Won’t you come and go with me
Down that mississippi We’ll take a boat to the land of dreams Come along with me on, down to new orleans Now the band’s there to greet us Old friends will meet us Where all them folks goin to the st. louis cemetary meet Heaven on earth.... they call it basin street I’m tellin’ ya, basin street...... is the street Where all them characters from the first street they meet New orleans..... land of dreams You’ll never miss them rice and beans Way down south in new orleans They’ll be huggin’.... and a kissin’ That’s what I been missin’ And all that music....lord, if you just listen’ New orleans....i got them basin street blues (instrumental break) Now ain’t you glad you went with me On down that mississippi We took a boat to the land of dreams Heaven on earth...they call it basin street |
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It was down in Old Joe's barroom,
On the corner by the square, Drinks were being served as usual, And a goodly crowd was there. When up steped old joe McGuinny His eyes were bloodshot red; As he poured himself more wiskey, This is what he said: I went down to the St. James Infirmary I saw my baby there, Streched out on a cold white table, So sweet, so cold, so fair. So Let her go, let her go, God bless her; Wherever she may be **see note** She may search this wide world over but she'll never find a sweet man like me. When I die, want you to dress me in straght laced shoes A box back coat and a Stetson hat; Put a twenty-dollar gold piece on my watch chain So the boys know I died standin' pat. **verses not in original recording** There are sixteen cold black horses, Hitched to her rubber tired hack; There are seven women goin' to that graveyard, and only six of 'em are coming back. Now that you'v heard my story, pour me one more shot of booz; And if anyone comes askin' about me, Tell 'em I got, Saint James Infermery blues. Some people exchange "She never did love me" for the line "Where ever she may be" that was in the original. |
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Strut-tin’ with some bar-be-que,
Swing-in’ with the band; Like the hap-py peo-ple do Way down in dix-ie land Hear that ol’ trom-bone And the trum-pet ad-lib. Love to hear the lick, While I do my pick-in’ Pick-in’ on a jui-cy rib. ‘Cause I'm Strut-tin with some bar-be-que, feel-in' might-y grand; pass an-oth-er help-in’ please, of that good ol’ dix-ie land. And mis-ter wait-er if you please An-oth-er rib or two; And I’ll go strut, strut, strut-tin, Strut-tin' with some bar-be-que REPEAT |
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