Lyrics:

Near Barcelona the peasant croons
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 folk song 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 folk song
Is like a fountain of youth
You taste and it elates you
And then invigorates you
The real American folk song
A masterstroke song
Is a rag!


The real American folk song 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 folk song
Is like a fountain of youth
You taste and it elates you
And then invigorates you
The real American folk song
Is a rag!