 | Harvest of Thoughts |  |
103
WHEN JOHNSON'S BAN' COMES 'LONG.
Come out hear boys an' lis'en!
Look a comin' up the street;
Jes' lis'en at them cymbals!
Now aint that music sweet?
Look at those crimson uniforms,
Aint that a lively song?
There's somethin' doin' on the street,
When Johnson's ban' comes 'long.
Look a comin' up the street;
Jes' lis'en at them cymbals!
Now aint that music sweet?
Look at those crimson uniforms,
Aint that a lively song?
There's somethin' doin' on the street,
When Johnson's ban' comes 'long.
That yellow chap is Mosbey Scott,
He plays that Great Big Bass;
That's no mistake; he's somethin' hot,
But my! he makes a face.
Hear Taylor's E-flat Clarinet,
A squealin' on that song?
The young fokes shout an' the ol' turn out,
When Johnson's ban' comes 'long.
He plays that Great Big Bass;
That's no mistake; he's somethin' hot,
But my! he makes a face.
Hear Taylor's E-flat Clarinet,
A squealin' on that song?
The young fokes shout an' the ol' turn out,
When Johnson's ban' comes 'long.
That foremost chap is Douglas Gray,
Say, aint he black an' slick?
He's in the fines' trim today,
Jes' watch him wheel that stick!
He winds it round like lightnin',
An' keeps time with the song;
All kin's o' busness bound to stop,
When Johnson's ban' comes 'long.
Say, aint he black an' slick?
He's in the fines' trim today,
Jes' watch him wheel that stick!
He winds it round like lightnin',
An' keeps time with the song;
All kin's o' busness bound to stop,
When Johnson's ban' comes 'long.
There is Professor Johnson!
That dawk complexted man;
Can play most any music,
He has the only ban'.
His boys are fine musicans,
They put life in a song,
All kind o' people throngs the street,
When Johnson's ban' comes 'long.
That dawk complexted man;
Can play most any music,
He has the only ban'.
104
They put life in a song,
All kind o' people throngs the street,
When Johnson's ban' comes 'long.
That little brown-skin fellow,
His name is Bert Divine;
He's walkin' nex' to Johnson,
He plays that cornet fine:
An' Harry Lee, from Tennessee,
Is doin' nothin' wrong;
Those German bans “are on the bum;”
When Johnson's ban' comes 'long.
His name is Bert Divine;
He's walkin' nex' to Johnson,
He plays that cornet fine:
An' Harry Lee, from Tennessee,
Is doin' nothin' wrong;
Those German bans “are on the bum;”
When Johnson's ban' comes 'long.
That boy is ol' man Lewis' son,
Who plays the piccolo,
An' that is preacher Jackson's boy,
Who blows the first alto;
That big-eyed-coon, with the slide trombone,
His name is Jerry Strong,
You hear the lates' pop'lar songs,
When Johnson's ban' comes 'long.
Who plays the piccolo,
An' that is preacher Jackson's boy,
Who blows the first alto;
That big-eyed-coon, with the slide trombone,
His name is Jerry Strong,
You hear the lates' pop'lar songs,
When Johnson's ban' comes 'long.
Our girls are sweet on Johnson,
They say he look so gran;'
An' they are right: Bud Johnson is,
A handsome colored man.
The ban' is gettin' ready to play another song,
'Tis fun to watch the colored fo'ks,
When Johnson's ban' comes 'long.
They say he look so gran;'
An' they are right: Bud Johnson is,
A handsome colored man.
The ban' is gettin' ready to play another song,
'Tis fun to watch the colored fo'ks,
When Johnson's ban' comes 'long.
105
Look at aunt Susan Thomas,
With years so far adavnce,
Her hair is white as cotton;
I be'lieve she's tryin' to dance.
Old sister Pane forgot her cane,
So has old uncle John,
You see all kind o' funny sights,
When Johnson's ban' comes 'long.
With years so far adavnce,
Her hair is white as cotton;
I be'lieve she's tryin' to dance.
Old sister Pane forgot her cane,
So has old uncle John,
You see all kind o' funny sights,
When Johnson's ban' comes 'long.
Whose mule is that? he's runin' off!
It looks like Charley Van's;
He tied him to the water-trough,
An' followed Johnson's ban',
That old mule he got frisky,
When the ban' came thunderin' by,
He upset old Charlie's wagon,
An' made the ashes fly.
It looks like Charley Van's;
He tied him to the water-trough,
An' followed Johnson's ban',
That old mule he got frisky,
When the ban' came thunderin' by,
He upset old Charlie's wagon,
An' made the ashes fly.
That makes no change with Johnson,
He lets the music fly;
You hear cake-walks an' ragtimes,
When e're his ban' goes by;
There is no ban' a goin',
Can beat them on such songs;
We leave behind our troubled mind,
When Johnson's ban' comes 'long.
He lets the music fly;
You hear cake-walks an' ragtimes,
When e're his ban' goes by;
There is no ban' a goin',
Can beat them on such songs;
We leave behind our troubled mind,
When Johnson's ban' comes 'long.
106
You know that tune they 're playin' now?
Its “Way down Dixie Lan';”
That baritone an' tenor horn,
Is surely raisin' san'.”
The ban' has got away too far,
To catch distinct the song;
It wakes the easy side o' life,
When Johnson's ban' comes long.
Its “Way down Dixie Lan';”
That baritone an' tenor horn,
Is surely raisin' san'.”
The ban' has got away too far,
To catch distinct the song;
It wakes the easy side o' life,
When Johnson's ban' comes long.
It tickles me to realize
My people's music skill;
All people bound to 'knowledge,
Though some it might nigh kill;
An' when they boast of some great ban',
A playin' jolly songs,
I tell them hold their tongue an' wait,
Till Johnson's ban' comes 'long.
My people's music skill;
All people bound to 'knowledge,
Though some it might nigh kill;
An' when they boast of some great ban',
A playin' jolly songs,
I tell them hold their tongue an' wait,
Till Johnson's ban' comes 'long.
| Harvest of Thoughts | |