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Cover: drawing of a Caucasian male thinking about when he was a child, being held by his African American mammy, African American male musicians stroll past performing in a lively fashion; Publisher: Jerome H. Remick and Co. (New York)
Subject Headings (Library of Congress)
Songs -- United States -- 20th Century; Popular Music -- United States
Sheldon Harris Collection (MUM00682), Archives and Special Collections, University of Mississippi Libraries
I heard a Jazz band playing raggy melodies, And their harmonies surely seemed to pleeeaase, Until they played a lullaby my Mammy sang to me, Back in the days so dear to my memory. I felt that they were wrong, When they ragged that dear old song, I couldn't help but ask them pleadingly.
Please don't Jazz my Mammy's lullaby, Go to sleep my Baby, Wont you hushabye. I'll always remember those dear old childhood days, And my dear old Mammy with her dear old fashioned ways. God love her, She would gently take me on her knee, And this lullaby she'd sing to me. She sang it to me sweetly ev'ry night, And believe me I know when it's right, So please don't Jazz my Mammy's Lullaby.
Perhaps these Jazz bands like to Jazz a lullaby, But I know that I surely can't see why, Unless they think the melody sounds better played that way, But when they ragged a song that's so dear to me, They spoiled its sweet refrain, And it filled my heart with pain, And now you'll always hear me make this plea.
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