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 medecine 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 buketful 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