Blue jean man
Skinny white sailor
the chances
were slender
the beauties were brief
Shall I mourn your decline
with some
thunderbird wine
and a black handkerchief?
I miss your sad
But genial whisper
I miss the voice
That called my heart
Sweet
Gene
Vincent
Young
and old
and gone
Sweet
Gene
Vincent
Who, who, who's
that John?
White face, black shirt
white socks, black shoes
black hair, white strat
bled white, dyed black
Sweet Gene Vincent
Let the blue cat's
roll tonight
At the soft hop ball
in the union hall
where the bop
is their delight
Here comes
duck-tailed Danny
dragging uncanny Annie
she's the one
with the flying feet
You can break the peace
daddy sickle grease
the beat is incomplete
And you jump back
honey in your dungerees
tight sweater and
a pony tail
Well you guess her age
when she comes
back stage
the hoodlums
bite their nails
Black gloves, white frost
black crepe, white lead
white sheet, black knight
jet black, dead white
Sweet Gene Vincent
There's one
in every town
and the devil drives
till the hearse arrives
you lay that pistol down
Sweet Gene Vincent
there's nowhere
left to hide
With lazy skin
and ash-grey eyes
and perforated pride
So farewell mademoiselle
knicker-bocker hotel
farewell to money owed
But when your leg
still hurts and
you need more shirts
you'd beter get back
on the road