Johnny Mercer - Bob White lyrics

Just listen to the Bob White He never could sing right You should hip it to the latest sound And the talk that's goin' 'round Well, I was talking to the parakeet And he said, "Man, now about that beat" (How about that beat?) "Hey Bob White, ain't you gonna swing tonight?" Several people heard the Albatross (Yes) Whisper Robin is on the sauce (I know for a fact he's on the wagon) Bob White, nothing but a neophyte (John, what does that word mean?) (Amateur) Even the Pheasant found it unpleasant Hearing you hit that flat note Whereas the Sparrow froze to his marrow When he heard that note The opinion of the Tufted Grouse Is you play to an empty house (Could happen to anybody, sure could) Get up, off that pair Shape up, make it dare Bob White, you gotta sing it out tonight Take a letter to the Meadowlark In reply to his rude remark (Well, the mails must go through) Bob White, invites you to a bash tonight (My tux isn't even pressed) Take a wire to the Nightingale Tell him Bob ain't begun to wail Bob White's gonna put him down for spite (Circulate the word) Call up the Catbird Tell that old fat bird He's gonna sing a storm up Hip the Canary, it'll be scary After the warm up Man, he's even gonna gas the goose He'll be a' looser than Dr. Seuss (Wait a minute John, do I detect a note Of meaning that he's gonna be 'right in tune?) Man, I'm telling you, he's gonna be 'on the moon (I see) Bob White He's gonna ball it up tonight Oh, he's in there Guy whistles pretty Yeah, like a bird, what? Here's a wire from the Albatross (Sounds urgent) It reads, 'Robin is still the boss' (Well, thank you very much folks) Bob White, he was in the groove tonight (Ha ha ha) I quote directly from the Whoopin' Crane He says, "Man, it was like insane" (He made it plain) Bob White really fought a groovy fight I thought I had him dead in the third round Hey, old poppa Red Bird Who is the head bird Says you were in there swingin' (He was tryin') Even the Jackdaw Flew out the back door Buckin' and wingin' You instigated such a swingin' gig That all them quadrapeds wanna dig (Here, here, you mean) Here come, the moose and elk And there goes Lawrence Welk Bob White, Bob White, Bob White You really sang it out tonight (Aw, it's for the birds)