Ella Fitzgerald The Real American Folk Song lyrics

Near Barcelona, the peasant crooned
The old traditional Spanish tunes
The Neapolitan street song sighs
You think of Italian skies

Each nation has a creative vein
Originating a native strain
With folk songs plaintive and others gay
In their own peculiar way

American folk songs, I feel
Have a much stronger appeal

The real American folksong is a rag, a mental jag
A rhythmic tonic for the chronic blues
The critics called it a 'Joke Song'
But now they've changed their tune and they like it, somehow

For it's inoculated with a syncopated sort of meter
Sweeter than a classic strain, boy you can't remain still and quiet
For it's a riot


The real American folksong is like a fountain of youth
You taste and it elates you and then invigorates you
The real American folksong, the masses coaxed on, is a rag

The real American folksong is a rag, a mental jag
A rhythmic tonic for the chronic blues
The critics called it a 'Joke Song'
But now they've changed their tune and they like it, somehow

For it's inoculated with a syncopated sort of meter
Sweeter than a classic strain, boy you can't remain still and quiet
For it's a riot

The real American folksong is like a fountain of youth
You taste and it elates you and then invigorates you
The real American folksong is a rag