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Mop mop, a thousand years ago |
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Mop mop, a guy named Jungle Joe |
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Was a drummer man in a Zulu band |
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That made swing history |
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Mop mop, one day the king said, "Gate |
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Why Gate, you old reprobate |
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I commission you, find a riff that's new |
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Or your wig belongs to me" |
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Joe's knees started knockin' |
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So scared he was stiff |
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'Til he noticed the tribe was rockin' |
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As his knees beat out this mellow riff |
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Mop mop, from the tropic's heat |
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Mop mop, came this jungle beat |
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Though Old Joe is gone, his Jive lives on |
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And it still is making history |
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Joe's knees started knockin' |
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So scared he was stiff |
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'Til he noticed the tribe was rockin' |
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As his knees beat out this mellow riff |
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Mop mop, from the tropic's heat |
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Mop mop, came this jungle beat |
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Though Old Joe is gone, his Jive lives on |
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And it still is making history |
