Tromboning the Day Away
by Jon Heath
me, i was tromboning zig zag
down the flat back street
just thinking la la la, about you
o’
boogie woogie hark hark
i can’t escape the heat
and the cats can’t scream enough at me,
there’s a sad sailor sinking
at the laundrette door
and he’s thinking about someone too
so i give him a shake
and offer up from my pack-o-cigarello’s
and he’s a beaming at me
all the way to the shop for a cup
o’
boogie woogie hark hark
i can’t escape the heat
and the buildings are starting to crumble,
i remember now thinking back
of your crisp-packet dress on the floor
and your legs, your legs
sliding up the wall
like Bombay curtains about to fall
and you’re a beaming at me
as we giggle fit to a record on the turn
o’
boogie woogie nash nash
i can’t escape the heat
and way down down the bells are ringing,
i’m on the straight and narrow baby
with my ripped up suit
and gentlemans rat-a-tat-tat
a paycheck waiting at the postmans box
that i might spend on any young fox
a whiskey slammer in my hand
and all the city i can see
o’
now now boogie woogie bop
we can’t escape the heat
and the sun she just don’t care for you and me,
one last drag for my busted gut
before i grab you by the hand
and we go a swirling twirling
around the old mans corner street lamp
wallstreet tattoos day-glow
in your golden hair
a thousand times i’m lost to stare
o’
boogie woogie hark hark
i just can’t escape the heat