There is a band man, a famous top hand Who hails from down ole Texas way and Oklahoma From do-wa-diddy to New York City You've heard him holler when he plays Folks play the jukebox And write to disc jocks Truck drivers, deep sea divers They ask, they say What makes Bob holler? What makes Bob holler? When I ask Bob, he explained this way And he said Well, when a little sweetie pie In a mint skirt, twirls by Rolls those big blue eyes Ahhh, I holler And when some pretty chick Says she loves my fiddle lick Well now then, that can do the trick Ahhh, I holler That makes Bob holler And when Bob hollers He makes you feel so happy and gay Okay What makes Bob holler? Bet your bottom dollar It's just because he feels that way That makes Bob holler And when Bob hollers He makes you feel so happy and gay Okay What makes Bob holler? Bet your bottom dollar It's just because he feels that way And he hollers 'cause he loves to play