| Folks I’ve just been down, down to Memphis town,
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| That’s where the people smile, smile on you all the while.
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| Hospitality, they were good to me.
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| I couldn’t spend a dime, and had the grandest time.
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| I went out a dancing with a Tennessee dear,
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| They had a fellow there named Handy with a band you should hear
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| And while the folks gently swayed, all the band folks played Real harmony.
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| I never will forget the tune that Handy called the Memphis Blues.
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| Oh yes, them Blues.
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| They’ve got a fiddler there that always slickens his hair
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| And folks he sure do pull some bow.
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| And when the big Bassoon seconds to the Trombones croon.
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| It moans just like a sinner on Revival Day, on Revival Day.
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| Oh that melody sure appealed to me.
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| Just like a mountain stream rippling on it seemed.
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| Then it slowly died, with a gentle sigh
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| Soft as the breeze that whines high in the summer pines.
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| Hear me people, hear me people, hear I pray,
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| I’m going to take a million lesson’s 'til I learn how to play
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| Because I seem to hear it yet, simply can’t forget
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| That blue refrain.
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| There’s nothing like the Handy Band that played the Memphis Blues so grand.
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| Oh play them Blues.
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| That melancholy strain, that ever haunting refrain
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| Is like a sweet old sorrow song.
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| Here comes the very part that wraps a spell around my heart.
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| It sets me wild to hear that loving tune a gain,
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| The Memphis Blues. |