Dixieland

I wish I could go back to ol’ Dixieland
not below the ol’ Mason-Dixon line
I want to hear that old-timey kind of band
two hours of that music would be fine
listening to that trumpet and bone
Clarinet, piano, and the old drum
don’t expect me to pick up my cell phone
all I want to do is listen and hum
I’ll join right in and march down Bourbon Street
though I’m sitting in my car in ol’ New Hampshire
but I can’t help it, I must move my feet
I’d March down the street with both him and her
of that old Dixieland I am a fan
but I’m sitting in my car like a pan.

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