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Michael Franks

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Michael Franks

Scatsville

Ran to Penn Station and mad my train
Immediately fell asleep until I heard
The conductor say：'Next stop
Where-it's-Atsville.'
Sunlight on the Hudson an amber glow
Like 'Crepuscule with Nellie' dialed
Down low
When I reached my stop
The platform sign said: 'Scatsville.'
I said: 'Wait!' and I turned around
But the doors where closed and the train
Was gone
And I though: 'This ain't
Where-I-hang-my-Hatsville.'
And the question I asked of each passerby
Was met with the same singsong reply:
'Jack, you are now in Scatsville.'

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It's the language of madmen
When you talk through your hat
My Eleventh Commandment's:
'Thou Shalt Not Scat!'

Mr. Feather sighed and he seemed
Depressed
When I complained of scat on my
Blindfold Test
So how
How'd I get to Scatsville?
Live every saxophonist who play bop
It's a little habit that hard to stop
One day you find yourself in Scatsville
With all the cats in Scatsville