Copyright, 1894, by Spaulding & Gray.
Words and Music by Barney Pagan.
Why Is ev'ry colored person smiling so serene?
Why is there a twinkle in each eye?
Which that cloud of darkness moving slowly up Broadway,
And then you'll quickly know the reason why.
To fife and drum, here they come;
Are they in It? Well, I should repeat.
The Bon-Ton Fusileers are out to greet their precious dears,
And give their darkey male constituents a treat.
No use talkin'-beat them walkin'? no, sir, can't be done;
Watch their movements, late improvements, Appollos ev'ry one.
Trim and very military, white folks loudly cheer:
It's worth your while to win a smile from a bon-ton fusileer.
See them roll their white eyes up for pretty colored gals,
Brimming over with a sassy pride;
Kings were never known on earth to hold their heads so high,
You could'nt beat them "no how" if you tried.
The band it played; all arrayed,
March these guilds of colored swelldom's peers,
And strut with noted hearing fine, their heads erect, in perfect line,
There's nothing like the Bon-Ton Fusileers.- Chorus.