Down on the Mississippi River in a knockdo’ dive
I met a trumpet playin’ character and man alive!
When he began to rip, he really played it from the hip
And when I asked about his name, they told me, “That’s ‘The Lip'”
Yip yip yip yip
No one plays high notes like The Lip
He’s got a tone that’s reminiscent of a boy named Bix
He plays so high that only dogs can hear him, just for kicks
And when I asked him does he read
He says, “I’ll tell you, hon, I read a little bit but not enough to hurt me none”
Yip yip yip yip
No one plays high notes like The Lip
I said The Lip
She must mean Ray Anthony, huh?
I said The Lip
No, man, she means Harry James
I said The Lip
You mean Louis Prima
I said The Lip
Noo, LIP-er-ace
Yip yip yip yip
No one plays high notes like The Lip
I never heard a trumpet player play a note so high
And I had to coax a lot before The Lip would tell me why
Then he took out a little jar that’s labeled ‘High-note Grease’
And he rubs a little every night on his mouthpiece
Yip yip yip yip
No one plays high notes like The Lip
Listen here gal, are you kiddin’ about all that ‘high-note grease’?
No, man, I swear, he had ten in his valise
Wha’, you mean he goes to the drugstore and gets them from the medicine shelf?
No, some cat’s told me he makes it himself
Yip yip yip yip
Tell us the secret of The Lip
Well… you take a bucketful of steam and a dozen rooster eggs
And you mix ’em up gently with a bushel full of goldfish legs
And ya hang ’em on a sky hook in the midnight sun
Mmm, and then you fry them until they’re done
Yip yip yip yip
That’s the secret of The Lip
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