| One night long ago by the light of the moon
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| An old music master sat compossing a tune
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| His spirit was soaring and his heart full of joy
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| When right out of nowhere stepped a little colored boy
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| You gotta jump it, music master
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| You gotta play that rhythm faster
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| You’re never gonna get it played
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| On the Happy Cat Hit Parade
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| You better tell your friend Beethoven
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| And Mister Reginald De Koven
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| They gotta do the same as you
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| Or they’re gonna be corny too
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| Along about nineteen-seventeen
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| Jazz’ll come upon the scene
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| Then about nineteen-thirty-five
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| You’ll begin to hear swing, boogie-woogie and jive
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| You better tell the big broadcaster
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| That you’re a solid music master
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| And you’ll achieve posterity
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| That’s a bit of advice from me
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| The old music master simply sat there amazed
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| As wide-eyed and open-mouthed he gazed and he gazed
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| How can you be certain little boy, tell me how?
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| Because I was born, he said, hundred years from now
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| He hit a chord that rocked the spinet
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| And disappeared into the infinite
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| And up until the present day
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| You can take it from me, he’s as right as can be
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| Everything has happened that-a-way
|
| Along about nineteen-seventeen
|
| Jazz’ll come upon the scene
|
| Then about nineteen-thirty-five
|
| You’ll begin to hear swing, boogie-woogie and jive
|
| He hit a chord that rocked the spinet
|
| And disappeared into the infinite
|
| And up until the present day
|
| You can take it from me, he’s as right as can be
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| Everything has happened that-a-way, yeah |