Stephenson Music
Text by Stoddard King
I could stand a jazz band, If the players would sit still; The tunes that it croons are all right.
But when the players wiggle, Bounce around and jiggle, In my ire I desire to fight.
Some day I shall lay for a jazz band musicker, Who snorts and contorts and jerks, With a big, shiny, clean gun Maybe a machine gun… You bet he will get the works.
And I’ll cry: “Now die, You St. Vitus dancer! Though I hate to create a row:
You jerked and you jiggled, Bounced around and wiggled; But you WILL keep still starting now!”
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