W’en de colo’ed ban’ comes ma’chin’
down de street,
Don’t you people stan’ daih starin’; lif’
yo’ feet!
Ain’t dey playin’? Hip, hooray!
Stir yo’ stumps an’ cleah de way,
Fu’ de music dat dey mekin’ can’t be
beat.

Oh, de major man ‘s a-swingin’ of his
stick,
An’ de pickaninnies crowdin’ roun’ him
thick;
In his go’geous uniform,
He ‘s de lightnin’ of de sto’m,
An’ de little clouds erroun’ look mighty
slick.

You kin hyeah a fine perfo’mance w’en
de white ban’s serenade,
An’ dey play dey high-toned music
mighty sweet,
But hit’s Sousa played in rag-time, an’
hit ‘s Rastus on Parade,
W’en de colo’ed ban’ comes ma’chin’j
down de street.

W’en de colo’ed ban’ comes ma’chin’
down de street
You kin hyeah de ladies all erroun’
repeat:
“Ain’t dey handsome? Ain’t dey
gran’?
Ain’t dey splendid? Goodness, lan’!
W’y dey ‘s pu’fect f’om dey fo’heads to
dey feet!
An’ sich steppin’ to de music down de
line,
‘T ain’t de music by itself dat meks it
fine,
Hit’s de walkin’, step by step,
An’ de keepin’ time wid “Hep,”
Dat it mek a common ditty soun’ divine.

Oh, de white ban’ play hits music, an’
hit ‘s mighty good to hyeah,
An’ it sometimes leaves a ticklin’ in yo’
feet;
But de hea’t goes into bus’ness fu’ to
he’p erlong de eah,
W’en de colo’ed ban’ goes marchin’
down de street.

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