It's Mighty Good To Git Back To The Old Town, Shore, Considerin' I've Be'N Away Twenty Year And More. Sence I Moved Then To Kansas, Of Course I See A Change, A-Comin' Back, And Notice Things That's New To Me And Strange; Especially At Evening When Yer New Band-Fellers Meet, In Fancy Uniforms And All, And Play Out On The Street - . . . What's Come Of Old Bill Lindsey And The Saxhorn Fellers - Say? I Want To Hear The Old Band Play. What's Come Of Eastman, And Nat Snow? And Where's War Barnett At? And Nate And Bony Meek; Bill Hart; Tom Richa'Son And That- Air Brother Of Him Played The Drum As Twic'T As Big As Jim; And Old Hi Kerns, The Carpenter - Say, What's Become O' Him? I Make No Doubt Yer New Band Now'S A Competenter Band, And Plays Their Music More By Note Than What They Play By Hand, And Stylisher And Grander Tunes; But Somehow - Anyway, I Want To Hear The Old Band Play. Sich Tunes As "John Brown'S Body" And "Sweet Alice," Don't You Know; And "The Camels Is A-Comin'," And "John Anderson, My Jo"; And A Dozent Others Of 'Em - "Number Nine" And "Number 'Leven" Was Favo-Rites That Fairly Made A Feller Dream O' Heaven. And When The Boys 'U'D Saranade, I've Laid So Still In Bed I've Even Heerd The Locus'-Blossoms Droppin' On The Shed When "Lilly Dale," Er "Hazel Dell," Had Sobbed And Died Away - . . . I Want To Hear The Old Band Play. Yer New Band Ma'By Beats It, But The Old Band'S What I Said - It Allus 'Peared To Kind O' Chord With Somepin' In My Head; And, Whilse I'm No Musicianer, When My Blame' Eyes Is Jes' Nigh Drownded Out, And Mem'Ry Squares Her Jaws And Sort O' Says She Won't Ner Never Will Fergit, I Want To Jes' Turn In And Take And Light Right Out O' Here And Git Back West Ag'In And Stay There, When I Git There, Where I Never Haf To Say I Want To Hear The Old Band Play.