Sam with the showing scalp flat top Particular about the point it made Why, when I was knee-high to a grasshopper This black juice came out on a hard shelled chin And they called that, tobacco juice I used to fiddle with my back feet music for a black onyx My entire room absorbed every echo. The music was, thud like The music was, thud like I usually played such things as rough-neck and thug Opaque melodies that would bug most people Music from the other side of the fence A black swan figurine lay on all color lily pads On a little conglomeration table of pressed black felt With same color shadows, in seamed knobbed knees, and what-nots The long hallway rolled out into oddball odd Beside the fly-pecked black doorway That looked closed on the tar-lattice street Up a wrought iron fire escape Rolled out a tiny wooden platform with dark, hard, dark rubber wheels Roll, skreek, roll, skreek, roll, skreek! Sam with the showing scalp flat top Particular about the point it made ♪ Sam was a basket case A hardened dark ivory clip held, saleable everyday pencils I wish I had a pair 'o bongos Bongo fury Bongo fury Ow! Bongo fury (boogie) Bongo fury Bongo fury Bongo fury