I was down in Savannah,
Aating cream and bananas,
When the heat just made me faint,
I began to get cross eyed,
I thought I was lost,
I’d begun to see things as they ain’t.
As the relatives gather,
To see what’s the matter,
The doctor came to see was I dying,
But the doctor said,
Give him jug band music,
It seems to make him feel just fine.
I was told a little tale,
About a skinny as a rail,
Eight foot cowboy with a headache,
He was hung up in the desert,
Swapping rats,
And trying to get a drink of water,
With his knees a getting mud caked.
And I’ll tell you in a sentence,
How he stumbled into Memphis Tennessee,
Hardly crawling, looking dust baked,
We gave him little water,
A little bit of wine,
He opened up his eyes,
But they didn’t seem to shine,
And the doctor said,
Give him jug band music,
It seems to make him feel just fine.
So if you ever get sickly,
Get sis to run quickly,
To the dusty closet shelf,
And pull out a washboard,
And play a guitar chord,
And do a little duet yourself.
Call on your neighbors,
To put down their labors,
Cause the doctor said,
Give him jug band music,
It seems to make him feel just fine.
I was floating in the ocean,
Greased with suntan lotion,
When I got wiped out by a beach boy,
He was surfing when he hit me,
But jumped off his board to get me,
And he dragged me by the armpit,
Like a child’s toy.
As we staggered in to land,
With all the waders eating sandwiches,
We tried to mooch a towel from the hoi poloi,
He emptied out his ear drums,
I emptied out mine,
And everybody knows,
That the very last line is,
The doctor said,
Give him jug band music,
It seems to make him feel just fine.
