At the Jazz Band Ball

Back when a nickel would buy Three finges of pretty good rye Piano players in the honky tonks Had to work on the sly One tune was known to a few Some steady habitués too So the word of mouth Spread around the South, strictly entre nous You better dig that jazz band ball 'Cause it's the finest of them all Four to five positions in the small saloon Inventing the ragtime tune They kinda make up their own brand Without a note up on the stand And they call it D-I-X-I-E Hyphen L-A-N-D, land Well sir, you know submit caught on What's more, it was strictly barn town 'Cause like a winner at the starting gate This music's got it and gone It moved from over the tracks Into those society shacks It was wonderful and deductible From the income tax You gotta dig that jazz band ball 'Cause it's the finest of them all When the trumpet player takes them on the low The people shout, "Well, who got dug?" And if you ask, "How come that yell" They kinda grin and then say "Well, when the band plays J-A double Z, it's a B-A double L" "When the band plays J-A double Z, it's a B-A double L, ball"