HOT TAMALE ALLEY.
Copyright, 1896, by Spaulding & Gray.
Words by Hay Irwin. Music by Geo. M. Cohan.
Down in Hot Tamale Alley lives a yaller gal named Sully,
She's the warmest member in the colored neighborhood;
Sally is the pink of neatness, she's a little lump of sweetness,
I'm her man, the whole coon clan would carve me if they could:
Talk about your jealous niggers, how they'd like to pull the triggers
Of the guns they carry, and a larget make of me,
Just because I've won this baby, and someday I'll wed her, maybe;
When we go out for a stroll, we are a sight to see.
There's no nigger cutting any figure
When I go out for a promenade with Sally!
There's a lot of wenches darker, but-you bet there's not a marker
To my baby down in Hot Tamale Alley.
Every cake walk, why we win it, no one's in it, for a minute.
When I link her arm and walk with Hot Tainale Sal,
To dis coon she is a blessing, And she doesn't keep me guessing;
For I know that I'm her beau, and she's my only gal;
She's the prize, and I have won it, ev'ry nigger tips his bonnet
When we pass, or else I flourish up my razor blade;
Now by dark-town we're respected, swellest couple we're elected;
Babies mighty hot 'twould take to put us in the shade.- Chorus.