作词 : Coslow, Sam/HARLING, W FRANKE 作曲 : Coslow, Sam/HARLING, W FRANKE All you sinners drop everything Everything Let the melody and the harmony ring Let it ring Lift arms up to Heaven and sing Ring-a-ding Sing you sinners woncha sway n' swing What a thing Start with clappin' y'hands all about All about Don't be silent - Let the Lord hear y'shout Shout it out And jus' let the music come out Of yr snout Sing you sinners woncha sway n' swing Check it out (Dig the drift of what I mean) In a world where there's no music (Old Scratch) Satan gets his kicks (He's up to his tricks) He'll be laughing up and down the banks (Hee, hee, hee) Of that river Styx You're so wicked baby, and you're depraved You can rave It's apparent that you have misbehaved To your grave But if you should wanna be saved Jus' behave Take a listen now to the bird... Stop all that chewin' yer cud - and all that standin' in the mud there Swing people! Swing every chortle from yer mortal portal I dig that everyone believes that all cattle prodigies Are like a sneeze Hard blowin'-missin one lick of blowin' talent to show (If y'sing - y' gotta swing!) But remember that the day will come when you Will be just steak on a plate (Folks, y'know it's fate) So dig the music of the swing-o-sphere - (before your swing arrives too late) That's a little too dark Still, it's true - we've got breath for such a limited time What are ya, stupid, ya cows?? - you'd think to sing was a crime In defense now; hence now; Here's comes Adele McCluck: Mrs. Mockingbird, I must say you haven't heard The friendly bellowing swing of our friends the cows - As they shed their way from Teagarden to Fuller Instead of spendin' ev'ry day jus' sneakin' around To life another lick - These cats work on their cow-tone, so when they get up to blow They blow a fatter bone-tone into the ozone (And furthermore...) You tweety-birds are always singin' away Never givin' up thought of what you say We cows do - shedding takes up most of our day So when we start and settle in to play - we can say A moo is an array of what we've always known to be The best and only way to play (What we mean to say is...) Before the band will letcha sing (Sing with Fletcher Henderson) You've got to get y'self to swing (Like the Bean or Satch) So your horn can blow - a single note or two Of deeper thinking (That's the way to swing) So set your mind upon a tone (When you're shedding all alone) And you will have a cornerstone (Like the bass trombone) Blow your horn and take a bow So that you're swinging like the cows Pythagoras would be so proud of us
作词 : Coslow, Sam/HARLING, W FRANKE 作曲 : Coslow, Sam/HARLING, W FRANKE All you sinners drop everything Everything Let the melody and the harmony ring Let it ring Lift arms up to Heaven and sing Ring-a-ding Sing you sinners woncha sway n' swing What a thing Start with clappin' y'hands all about All about Don't be silent - Let the Lord hear y'shout Shout it out And jus' let the music come out Of yr snout Sing you sinners woncha sway n' swing Check it out (Dig the drift of what I mean) In a world where there's no music (Old Scratch) Satan gets his kicks (He's up to his tricks) He'll be laughing up and down the banks (Hee, hee, hee) Of that river Styx You're so wicked baby, and you're depraved You can rave It's apparent that you have misbehaved To your grave But if you should wanna be saved Jus' behave Take a listen now to the bird... Stop all that chewin' yer cud - and all that standin' in the mud there Swing people! Swing every chortle from yer mortal portal I dig that everyone believes that all cattle prodigies Are like a sneeze Hard blowin'-missin one lick of blowin' talent to show (If y'sing - y' gotta swing!) But remember that the day will come when you Will be just steak on a plate (Folks, y'know it's fate) So dig the music of the swing-o-sphere - (before your swing arrives too late) That's a little too dark Still, it's true - we've got breath for such a limited time What are ya, stupid, ya cows?? - you'd think to sing was a crime In defense now; hence now; Here's comes Adele McCluck: Mrs. Mockingbird, I must say you haven't heard The friendly bellowing swing of our friends the cows - As they shed their way from Teagarden to Fuller Instead of spendin' ev'ry day jus' sneakin' around To life another lick - These cats work on their cow-tone, so when they get up to blow They blow a fatter bone-tone into the ozone (And furthermore...) You tweety-birds are always singin' away Never givin' up thought of what you say We cows do - shedding takes up most of our day So when we start and settle in to play - we can say A moo is an array of what we've always known to be The best and only way to play (What we mean to say is...) Before the band will letcha sing (Sing with Fletcher Henderson) You've got to get y'self to swing (Like the Bean or Satch) So your horn can blow - a single note or two Of deeper thinking (That's the way to swing) So set your mind upon a tone (When you're shedding all alone) And you will have a cornerstone (Like the bass trombone) Blow your horn and take a bow So that you're swinging like the cows Pythagoras would be so proud of us
