Dressed up fine, ready to swing in time,
I set that Satchmo spinning.
My right hand clicks, he plays his licks,
You know that it's beginning.
Hear Bing croon, you know that soon
All your thoughts'll be thinning.
A voice so smooth, let your soul soothe,
It sets my mouth a-grinning.
Sinatra, Nat King, add something
But you know that it's all
Bing and Satchmo, if you're dancing
At the Jazz Band Ball.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem