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
I had to coax a lot before The Lip would tell me why
Then he took out a little jar that's labelled 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 a big 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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