Black Rhythm

Cab Calloway


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Down in Louisiana
He knows that they can't kid him
The blues that he'll compose will thrill you
He called his song "Black Rhythm,"
The keys he plays on sweetly,
The melancholy strum

And adds a new note,
But he's just improvising
You'll quit your pouting,
No need in doubting he knows the keys.
Can play on the black ones with ease.
Makes the gang stick with him all night long,
They hear him syncopate his mournful song.
A' strumming lightly on those ivories.


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