One night long ago by the light of the moon,
An old music master sat composing a tune,
His spirit was soaring and his heart full of joy,
When right out of nowhere stepped a little coloured boy.
You gotta jump it, music master,
You gotta play that rhythm faster,
You're never gonna get it played
On the Happy Cat Hit Parade.
You better tell your friend Beethoven,
And Mister Reginald De Koven
They better do the same as you,
Or they're gonna be corny too.
Long about nineteen seventeen
Jazz'll come upon the scene,
Then about nineteen thirty-five
You'll begin to hear swing,
Boogie Woogie and Jive,
You gotta show that big broadcaster
That you're a solid music master,
And you'll achieve posterity,
That's a bit of advice from me.
The old music master simply sat there amazed,
As wide-eyed and open-mouthed he gazed and he gazed
How can you be certain little boy, tell me how?
Because I was born, my friend,
A hundred years from now.
He hit a chord that rocked the spinet
And disappeared into the infinite,
And up until the present day,
You can take it from me,
He's as right as can be,
Ev'rything has happened that-a-way.
