I got tired of New York City, of its sidewalks and its heat So I got myself a great big horse and I rode him down the street And then I hollered, "Hi, ho, Silver" and, "Get 'em up, Scout" But I suffered aggravation and a great humiliation So I finally said I'd let the story out You can't ride a big white horse into the front of Gatsby's door You can't call out, "Hi, ho, Silver" as you scoot across the floor Twenty big Italians had me bent down on my knees And I cried, "Oh, ouch, help Lord" and, "Mama Mia, please" Well, he broke into a cantor down around ol' Times Square And my cowboy boots and hat, I left them somewhere way back there Then he stomped and reared and turned and bucked And took off to the South And I slid through Gatsby's Restaurant with his tail stuck in my mouth But you can't ride a big white horse into the front of Gatsby's door You don't call out, "Hi, ho, Silver" as you scoot across the floor Twenty big Italians had me bent down on my knees And I cried, "Oh, ouch, help Lord" and, "Mama Mia, please" Now, down at Gatsby's Restaurant, there's a picture hanging there Of a petrified Italian with escargot in his hair And there's a big, white horse rug lying by the door And I'm washing dishes in the back and sweepin' up the floor But you don't ride a big, white horse into the front of Gatsby's door You don't call out, "Hi, ho, Silver" as you scoot across the floor Twenty big Italians had me bent down on my knees And I cried, "Oh, ouch, help Lord" and, "Mama Mia, please"