At First It Was Just A Misdemeanor,

Every Time I Close My Eyes Blowing That Trumpet Of Mine, I Look Right Into The Heart Of Good Old New Orleans. It Has Given Me Something To Live For.

We Don't Play Slow And We Don't Play Fast, We Play Half Fast

I Don't Get Involved In Politics. I Just Blow My Horn.

Give Me A Kiss To Build A Dream On And My Imagination Will Thrive Upon That Kiss Sweetheart, I Ask No More Than This A Kiss To Build A Dream On.

It's Getting Almost So Bad A Colored Man Hasn't Got Any Country.