Jazz Jive 1

Squeamy love, love in a bushel
Tam i lam i gooble hockoh dee?
I'm gonna take you, yeah you, to jive school.
Where you'll a-learn.......learn learn/

Take you to jive school.

There ain't no books, but... lots to learn
You'll be a studying with your feet and your palms,
smooth slacking clobber clacking hand shaking burn
You're never gonna get more than you earn EARN!

(to be continued...)

Jazz, Swing Mama 1

I like a smooth jazz groove over taters and grave (y)
Smooth like a plum skin and berthed in the Navy,
Suddenly Sass-a-lickin' groveling bloat
Sense of late Jemimah rockin' what she... done... wrote...

They call 'em hill Billies - rocks and stocks,
Painted funk-in flowers of the boom-school boom
Who asked for the tartlets of Rhondhale High?
In the Royal Marines they groove a 'ticular style.

And speaking of par-tic-u-lar methods of frump,
I could swear I heard the whispers of a tattle-tale rump
Never bustin' out of the moon,
She's a wash (a wash, awash in booble bloom.)

Socks.

Uhm Socks-a-ling-o
Baby. Divine.
The purse-cracked crackle-dracked seed-podded Frau
Needs a bit of chow........................
Feed the pupil, feed the lamb.
Sashka nashka tooga rottle beebop damn.
Jemimah's in the whole white pan,
There's nothing else to compare and nothing else in the pan.

Ook ah.

Jazz-Jive Song I

Janie said she done liked her head,
but wanted an escape or two.
And Mercy-Plum, that Chattanooga bum
Would have to give a band-aid shoe.

Out the window and into the bank
of the lazy river Divine
Our Lady of devotion, lookin' for the lotion
was distracted by the coal mine...

The tattle-maroo, at the edges of the Skoo
was looking at Janie and Merce..
and just when the thought it was a tree they bought,
They'd been taken with the horse-less curse.

(Chorus)
Oh rave on..
Oh rave on Mathilda Malone
no one can touch your palanquin, or your ditty bone.
so just haul it, haul it in,
across the the little river bridge.
You know the sump-pump is heaving its kerfuffle
over the dank ruck fridge.

Jazz Song I

Over the hill, and over the dale
Katchm-ko wandered high.
Loving the light of the Pompass tree
Nothing compares to sky.

Katchm-ko wilted, wandered and sat
huggin' the friss-frass band
while the trumpet was heatin' up the tranquil night,
he couldn't help but move his hand

...to the jungle beat, thick and sweet
his feet kept tapping along
as drums went boom, but not for doom,
but rather quick like a ball of ping-pong.