George Gershwin — The Real American Folk Song Is a Rag

(Verse 1) Near Barcelona the peasant croons The old traditional Spanish tunes The Neapolitan street song sighs You think of Italian skies 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 (Chorus) The real American folk song 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 inoculated With a syncopated Sort of meter Sweeter Than a classic strain Boys, you can't remain Still and quiet For it's a riot The real American folk song Is like a fountain of youth You taste and it elates you And then invigorates you The real American folk song A masterstroke song Is a rag! (Verse 2) You may dislike or you may adore The native songs from a foreign shore They may be songs you can't forget They may be distinctive, yet They lack a something, a certain snap The tempo ticklish that makes you tap The invitation to agitate And leave the rest to fate A raggy refrain anytime Sends a message sublime (Chorus) The real American folk song 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 inoculated With a syncopated Sort of meter Sweeter Than a classic strain Boys, you can't remain Still and quiet For it's a riot The real American folk song Is like a fountain of youth You taste and it elates you And then invigorates you The real American folk song A masterstroke song Is a rag!