Ran to Penn Station and mad my train Immediately fell asleep until I heard The conductor say: "Next stop Where-it's-Atsville." Sunlight on the Hudson an amber glow Like "Crepuscule with Nellie" dialed Down low When I reached my stop The platform sign said: "Scatsville." I said: "Wait!" and I turned around But the doors where closed and the train Was gone And I though: "This ain't Where-I-hang-my-Hatsville." And the question I asked of each passerby Was met with the same singsong reply: "Jack, you are now in Scatsville."
It's the language of madmen When you talk through your hat My Eleventh Commandment's: "Thou Shalt Not Scat!"
Mr. Feather sighed and he seemed Depressed When I complained of scat on my Blindfold Test So how How'd I get to Scatsville? Live every saxophonist who play bop It's a little habit that hard to stop One day you find yourself in Scatsville With all the cats in ScatsvilleTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
