In the streets of Knoxville town, all the pretty girls are dancing around.
One step forward, one step back, swinging with the yodel-yodel-yodel-yag.
Oh, it's the fourth day of July, when the good old music came to ride.
Dancing on the barn doors all night long, listen to the rhythm of the good old song.
It's piking and a heave, hiding from the hills, playing with a hoedown with all your skills.
Churning out your banjo, rowing your boat, playing old fast and never too slow.
Oh, it's the fourth day of July, when the good old music came to ride.
Dancing on the barn doors all night long, listen to the rhythm of the good old song.
Knocking on the windows and this is what I'll tell you, it's a fine story and the sound is as well.
Eight, seven, eight, nine, and when you go out and get it, wherever it is, it gives a yell.
Oh, it's the fourth day of July, when the good old music came to ride.
Dancing on the barn doors all night long, listen to the rhythm of the good old song.
There's a hand pulling with a red bow-tie, if you want it, it's all in your mind.
Oh, it's the fourth day of July, when the good old music came to ride.
Dancing on the barn doors all night long, listen to the rhythm of the good old song.