| Papa played a swingin' horn,
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| Back once in a dream
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| Left it underneath the bed,
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| Shipped outta New Orleans
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| There’s his picture, it was taken before the war,
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| He’s singin' from a sheet music score,
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| «C'mon along,
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| C’mon along,
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| Hear the marchin' of the drum»
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| Out in the heat and the bugs,
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| Where the Jungle gave way,
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| Came a whistlin' of bullets,
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| That carved up the middle of the day
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| Papa’s eyes is open, but the shutter speed was wrong
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| All the face is blurred in a song,
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| «C'mon along,
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| C’mon along,
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| Hear the marchin' of the drum»
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| I heard the marchin' of the drum,
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| An' it pained my heart,
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| Heard the marchin' of the drum,
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| When the church doors swung apart
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| The horns was gathered on the church steps,
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| A sound like snakes rose from the clarinets
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| All along, all along, I heard the marchin' of the drum |