The Real American Folk Song Lyrics - Ella Fitzgerald

Near Barcelona, the peasant crooned 

The old traditional Spanish tunes 

The Neapolitan street song sighs 

You think of Italian skys 

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 

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The critics called it a "joke song" but now 

They've changed their tune, and they like it, somehow 

For it's innoculated with a syncopated sort of meter, sweeter 

Than a classic strain, boy you can't remain, still or 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 

(instrumental break) 

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 innoculated with a syncopated sort of meter, sweeter 

Than a classic strain, boy you can't remain, still or 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