Manhattan Transfer Sing You Sinners
Once a mockingbird, dig, he was overheard, what?
Singing out a word, I, to a cattle heard, heard
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 and swing, what a thing
Start with clappin' your hands all about, all about
Don't be silent, let the Lord hear you shout, shout it out
And just let the music come out of your snout
Sing you sinners won't you sway and 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
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, just behave
Take a listen now to the bird
Stop all that chewin' your curd and all that standin' in the mud there
Swing people! Swing every chortle from your mortal, portal
I know 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
But remember that the day will come when you
Will be just steak on a plate, folks, you know it's fate
So dig the music of the swing of sphere
Before your 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, ya cows?
You'd think to sing was a crime
In defense now, hence now, here comes Adele Mccluck
Mrs. Mockingbird, I must say you haven't heard
Of the friendly bellowing swing of our friends the cows
As they shed their way from Tea garden to Fuller
Instead of spendin' every day just sneakin' around
To live 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 a thought of what you say
We cows do shedding takes up most of our day
So when we start settlin' to play, we could 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 let ya sing, sing with Fletcher Henderson
You've got to get your 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
