A Tiger Beat
A Tiger Beat
Bookeem played the bass. Man, did he play the bass. He played it until biscuits rained from the sky. They was downhome biscuits, too. Not none of them canned biscuits, that’s for sho'. It reminded him of when he was on the road with that barnstorming basketball team “The St. Louis Satchmo’s.”
“Lawdy Massa! How he done so bad, when he was shooting dem foul shots. Can’t no Black man miss dat much. He must 'a gone fishing or sumpin.”
Ain’t no fish down here. “Ohh….Bess you is my woman.”
Listen boy, when I used to hang around backstage, them girls was so purty, I’d faint, wake up 7 hours later, and couldn’t find my shoes. What do you expect that meant, Dr. Freud?
Sigmund Freud: Well, it’s the sign of a man who feels that his shoes are his best trait. “Have you ever seen shoes like these? Probably not.” He’d ask. Then he’d do a quick two step like Mrs. Bojangles who was filling in because her husband Mr. Bojangles was sick. I think that explains your phobia to a T.
Thanks doc! Now I can visit me old mum before she dies. She’s 114 come next Tuesday.
And then Lil Ricky skipped off to a tiger beat, just ramping up his jeans……or was that genes?
The End
Sincerely - Bust' a Crab
Bookeem played the bass. Man, did he play the bass. He played it until biscuits rained from the sky. They was downhome biscuits, too. Not none of them canned biscuits, that’s for sho'. It reminded him of when he was on the road with that barnstorming basketball team “The St. Louis Satchmo’s.”
“Lawdy Massa! How he done so bad, when he was shooting dem foul shots. Can’t no Black man miss dat much. He must 'a gone fishing or sumpin.”
Ain’t no fish down here. “Ohh….Bess you is my woman.”
Listen boy, when I used to hang around backstage, them girls was so purty, I’d faint, wake up 7 hours later, and couldn’t find my shoes. What do you expect that meant, Dr. Freud?
Sigmund Freud: Well, it’s the sign of a man who feels that his shoes are his best trait. “Have you ever seen shoes like these? Probably not.” He’d ask. Then he’d do a quick two step like Mrs. Bojangles who was filling in because her husband Mr. Bojangles was sick. I think that explains your phobia to a T.
Thanks doc! Now I can visit me old mum before she dies. She’s 114 come next Tuesday.
And then Lil Ricky skipped off to a tiger beat, just ramping up his jeans……or was that genes?
The End
Sincerely - Bust' a Crab