| Just take a look at Harlem after sundown, |
| Any time you choose; |
| It’s hard to find the people feeling run-down; |
| There’s no time for blues. |
| If you don’t know just what to really do Just take a walk along the avenue; |
| You’ll hear the sounds come a-floatin' through |
| Along about midnight. |
| They close the windows and they dim the light |
| To hide their doings from a stranger’s sight; |
| Everything is going right, |
| 'Long about midnight. |
| Pianos tinkle, and the couples sway, |
| Taking the pleasures they find, |
| They don’t care how they live by day, |
| Why not leave trouble behind? |
| They’re not pretending like the hoy-falloy; |
| They really mean it; it’s the real McCoy. |
| They turn an ounce of booze into a pound of joy, |
| 'Long about midnight! |