| Away down yonder in the state of Arkansas
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| Where my great-grandpa met my great-grandma
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| They drink apple cider and they get on a jag
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| And they dance all night to the Salty Dog Rag
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| They play an old fiddle like you never heard before
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| They play the only tune that they ever did know
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| It’s a ragtime ditty and the rhythm don’t drag
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| Now here’s the way you dance to the Salty Dog Rag
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| One foot front, drag it back
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| Then you start to ball the jack
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| You shake and you break and then you sag
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| If your partner zigs you’re supposed to zag
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| Your heart is light, you tap your feet
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| In rhythm with that ragtime beat
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| Just pack up your troubles in your old kit bag
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| And dance all night to the Salty Dog Rag
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| Away down South 'neath the old Southern moon
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| The possum’s up a tree and the hounds treed a coon
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| They’ll hitch up the buggy to a broken down nag
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| And go out dancing to the Salty Dog Rag
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| They tune up the fiddle and they rosin up the bow
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| They strike a C chord on the old banjo
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| And holler hang on 'cause we ain’t gonna drag
|
| Now here’s the way you dance to the Salty Dog Rag
|
| One foot front, drag it back
|
| Then you start to ball the jack
|
| You shake and you break and then you sag
|
| If your partner zigs you’re supposed to zag
|
| Your heart is light, you tap your feet
|
| In rhythm with that ragtime beat
|
| Just pack up your troubles in your old kit bag
|
| And dance all night to the Salty Dog Rag
|
| One foot front, drag it back
|
| Then you start to ball the jack
|
| You shake and you break and then you sag
|
| If your partner zigs you’re supposed to zag
|
| Your heart is light, you tap your feet
|
| In rhythm with that ragtime beat
|
| Just pack up your troubles in your old kit bag
|
| And dance all night to the Salty Dog Rag |