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"