Well, you've heard about the alligators sleepin' in the shade You've heard heard about the sugar barons screwin' up the 'glades It's a melting pot existence That is hard to contemplate And a never ending battle in the Sunshine State But far, far away from the front page news Far, far away from the headline blues Down a secondary road that severely shows its age The forties comes to life on a make-shift stage Chorus: It's the Bob Roberts Society Band Playing every Sunday at the Orange Grove Stand They don't play grunge and they don't play loud It's the magic of the music that still draws a crowd Well, the word goes out From Melbourne to the Keys The faithful get the message Like it's written on the breeze Young folks, old folks 'Bout to cut a rug Fox Trot, Bunny Hop Do the Jitterbug To the Bob Roberts Society Band Playing every Sunday at the Orange Grove Stand They don't play grunge and they don't play loud It's the magic of the music that still draws a crowd I saw mini vans from Boca Buses from Perrine There were people speaking Hindu In the bar-b-que line A couple on their honeymoon Looked a bit confused But the boys in the band put 'em right in the mood They played... A lady dressed in purple started dancing all alone Then she sauntered oh so gently to the vacant microphone She sounded like she's someone and never missed a beat By the time the number ended they were dancin' in the street They'd died and gone to heaven That lively little crowd Trombones and saxophones Sent 'em through the clouds It could have gone all night But the party had to stop When they blew the circuit breaker In the souvenir shop Chorus (2 x's) Oh...yeah!