Mama Roosa's

Way down yonder in the south of Mississippi,
At the bottom of the Natchez Trace,
There’s a bar and grill where they push boot swill,
And they call it Mama Roosa’s Place.

The starlet of the bar is Sugar Baby Baker,
She’s the sweetest little singer you could choose,
Her specialties are scat-cat and rap-slap and rhythm,
With a side bar rendition of the blues.

She has the Hunker Down Band backing up the singing,
There’s Eighty-Eight Simmons on the keys,
And Rollie Kilpatrick who’s a musical magician,
With his big bass fiddle ‘tween his knees.

Little Sticks Maloney beats the skins like a demon,
Jimmy Jolly plays the plumbing with the slide,
And Slappy Pouquette licks the sweetest cornet,
‘Cause he’s getting some of Sugar on the side.

The crowds always grow when the lights go low,
Leaving Sugar Baby standing in the spot,
The Band starts lowly with soft sweet numbers,
Then they slowly move along to something hot.

As the rhythm gets quicker Mama Roosa pushes liquor,
To the characters who come to hear the sounds,
As their thirst expands to the greatest of the bands,
While the beat of Rollie’s giant fiddle pounds.

When the last call is over and the crowd hits the road,
When the night starts to sounding soft and still,
Then Sugar and the boys split, taking their noise,
Leaving Mama Roosa counting up the till.

But the ghost of jazz and the spirit of the blues,
And the specter of the soul is hanging low,
The rhythm of the bass seems to echo through the Place,
‘Til Mama is the final one to go.

Then the Place gets quiet through the rest of the night,
And it’s silent through the best of the day,
But when the sun goes down all the people gather round,
To hear the Hunker Downs and Sugar Baby play.