A guitar player visits the Kat Klub.

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old Betty Boop cartoons were inspiration.

I went down to the Kat Klub at midnight with my pockets full of silver
My ax in a case that sparkled bright as gold
The music cooked up front by an old piano player
He played so pure, he made my spine run cold
I'm going to tell you now that the smokin' bloke was greasin' his old fingers up and down the keys
But the cat cut the mustard 'cause all the people fussed about the fast swinging melodies
Spider bent the bass to the bottom of the bottom as he laid bricks, thump by thump
And the drummer was all wet with three hours worth of sweat, but he still held the ace of trump.


Swing low, swing high
Sweet chariot's gonna fly
Goddamn, that piano man
He puts out the music doing all he can.


I sat down at Kat Klub at midnight with my pockets full of silver
As the night went on, my money went drink by drink
The music cooked up front and my fingers itched to join them
I took my ax out and piano man gave me a wink
I'm going to tell you now that the swinging thing was dynamite for me to get off on
And Bertha, my guitar, had never sang so hard since the gig at the Parthenon
My fingers milked the notes from the strings of old Bertha, and whipped the milk into cream
And then between the songs, we all would get along with some tequila and some grenadine.


Swing low, swing high
Sweet chariot's gonna fly
Goddamn, that guitar man
He puts out the music doing all he can.


Swing low, swing high, sweet chariot's gonna fly
Take me to the kingdom and let me swing all night.