Do the jiggaloo
Larkspur July is coming around,
gladiola will sharpen her sword,
Mrs Simkins will need to be layered
to spread her fragrance abroad.
I was riding the escalator
on the tube at Notting Hill Gate
hoping the train to Marble Arch
would be on time, not late.
I was stopped by the sad sweet sax player
why did he play that way?
he told me with tears running down his cheeks
“Mr. Jackson died today.”
You ask about my style
well I don’t know about that
I want to speak my mind out
let people know just where I’m at
still you are not quite satisfied
with our little rhyme
“let’s find a desert to traverse [say you]
there must be a mountain to climb.”
We can do that,
who knows but we may have to
but just for now relax my friend,
more gentle play pursue.
Wipe the spit out of your clarinet
I’ll fetch my old guitar
let’s go down to the market place
don’t forget to bring the jar.
We’ll jolly up some shoppers
lighten someone’s load
and if we make a couple of quid
we’ll have a quick one for the road.
Sing a song of summer
one sad ballad will do
you can render your soulful nuance
I can do the jiggaloo.
Knowledge comes with experience
he only asked compensation,
other people expect a bribe
but hey life is free, no obligation.
