Well I’m a-going back to the country
I can’t pay the rent
Now I know they’re going to be mad
At all the money I spent
Now I know
Just what they meant
I ain’t broke
But brother I’m badly bent
When you’re down and out
When you’re on the street
When evening falls so hard
I will comfort you…
There’s a man works down the chip shop swears he’s Elvis
Just like you swore to me that you’d be true
There’s a man works down the chip shop swears he’s Elvis
But he’s a liar and I ain’t sure about you.
Get down and get with it
I said
Do the turns
Come on baby
I’m going to watch everybody work
I said come on baby
Watch everybody do the dance
If you’re feeling sad and blue,
come on and dance with me.
I can make your dreams come true,
come on and dance with me.
Let’s groove tonight
Share the spice of life
Baby slice it right
We’re gonna groove tonight
Tom Cat! Y’ know where it’s at!
Come on ! Let’s go to my flat
Lay down 'n groove on the mat
A-you can be my coo ca choo
Top Cat!
The indisputable leader of the gang.
He’s the boss, he’s a pip, he’s the championship.
He’s the most tip top,
Top Cat.
Stray cat strut, I’m a ladies’ cat,
A feline Casanova, hey man, thats where its at
Get a shoe thrown at me from a mean old man
Get my dinner from a garbage can
Gus is the cat at the theatre door.
His name as I ought to have told you before.
Is really Asparagus, but that’s such a fuss
To pronounce, that we usually call him just “Gus.”
Baby, there’s an enormous crowd of people, they’re all after my blood
I wish maybe they’d tear down the walls of this theater, let me out, let me out!
We all came down to Montreux
On the Lake Geneva shoreline
To make records with a mobile
We didn’t have much time
Frank Zappa and the Mothers
Were at the best place around
Some stupid with a flare gun
Burned the place to the ground
Ain’t nobody messing with you but you
Your friends are getting most concerned.
Loose with the truth, baby, it’s your fire
I hope you don’t get burned.
Truth is, after all, a moving target.
Hairs to split and pieces that don’t fit
How can anybody be enlightened
Truth is, after all, so poorly lit
Facts are simple and facts are straight
Facts are lazy and facts are late
Facts all come with points of view
Facts don’t do what I want them to
Hey Jack, Relax
Get busy with the facts
No zodiacs or almanacs
No maniacs in polyester slacks!
Zoot Suit, white jacket
with side vents five inches long
I’m out on the streets again,
and I’m leaping along
Dressed right for a street fight
but I just can’t explain
why that uncertain feeling
is still here in my brain.
I want a zoot suit with a reet pleat
And a drape shape, and a stuff cuff
To look sharp enough to see my Sunday gal
Well I went down south for to see my gal
Singing polly wolly doodle all the day
You step inside but you don’t see too many faces
Coming in out of the rain to hear the jazz go down
Too much competition too many other places
But not too many horns can make that sound
Way on down south way on down south
London town