Cool cat could you play that one song for me?
Can I keep up with you and Jezebel’s rhythm?
Mr. Musician, you were fresh outta Vietnam when you met her
Went in a brazen, brown, broad-smiled boy,
but you were flung right into the rain of bullets
Came out a piece of coal, charred black from the rapid fire.
Lyndon done did you dirty didn’t?
But that don’t matter ‘cause Jezebel fixed you right up, didn’t she?
You wrapped your fingers round her wide waist and long neck,
and the rest is history.
Badoom doom badabaaa,
baby she soothes the crowd with her deep voiced melody,
and I know you would agree.
Standing on stage, strumming her strings,
it’s cathartic art is it not?
Baking under the blue lights,
a bead of sweat runnin’ down-
cool cat you have found your calling.
Forget about the bombs a-falling.
Damn I know the memories are appalling
but focus on sweet Jezebel
and she’ll make everything alright.