Sing You Sinners

Once a mockingbird - he was overheard

singing out a word - to a cattle herd,

'All you bovine creatures - dig what I'm layin' down!

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, won't you sway & swing

What a thing

Start with clapping' y'hands all about.

All about

Don't be silent - Let the Lord hear y'shout

Shout it out

And just let the music come out

Of yer snout

Sing you sinners, wontcha' sway & 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 & down the banks - He, He, He!

Of that River Styx

You're so wicked, baby, and you're depraved

You can rave

It's apparent that you have mis-behaved

To your grave

But if you should want to be saved

Jus' behave

Take a listen now to the bird . . .

(Janis' solo)

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 cattle prodigies are like a sneeze:

hard blowin', missin one lick of blowin' talent to show.

If you sing, you gotta swing

Just remember that the day will come when you will just be steak on a plate.

Folk, you know it's fate!

So dig the music of the swing-o-sphere - before yer swing arrives too late.

That's a little too dark.

Still, it is true, we've got breath for such a limited time.

What are ya', stupid? You cows - you'd think to sing was a crime.

In defence now, hence now, here comes Adele McCluck:

Cheryl's solo)

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' every day just sneakin' around to lift another lick -

These cats work on their cow-tone so when they get up to blow a fatter bone-tone

into the ozone.

And, furthermore

(Alan's solo)

You tweety birds are always singin' away - never givin' up a thought of what you say.

We cows do - shedding takes up most of our day

So when we start & settle in to play we can say:

A moo is an array of what cows have always known as the best and only way to play.

What we mean to say is

Before the band will let you sing

Sing with Fletcher Henderson

You'd better get yourself 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 sheddin' all alone

And you will have a cornerstone

Like the bass trombone

Blow your horn and take a bow

So that you're swingin' like the cows

Pythagoras would be so proud of us.