Now, listen all you prizefighters who don't want to meet defeat Listen all you prizefighters who don't want to meet defeat Take a tip from me, stay off Joe Louis's beat Now, he's won all his fights, twenty-three or four And left twenty of his opponents lying on the floor They all tried to win, but the task was too hard When he laid that hambone up against them boys Listen all you prizefighters, don't play him too cheap If he lands with either hand he'll sure put you to sleep Spoken: He's a real fighter, I bet on him, He knows just what to do, I'm talking to you Now, he packs that might in his left, he carries a punishin' right Either one will make you groggy or as high as a kite He charges his opponents from the beginning of the gong He batters them into submission, then they all sing a song I bet on the Brown Bomber, boy, he knows his stuff And lays it on his opponents until they-ey (falsetto) get enough Now, he's a natural-born fighter who'd like to fight them all "The bigger they come,", he said, "the harder they fall" That terrific left, boys, is all he needs But that six-inch right come with lightning speed Listen all you prizefighters, don't play him too cheap Take a tip from me, stay off Joe Louis's beat