Due to the tragic
lowness of my brow,
all music that's highbrow
gets me upset.
Each time I hear a
strain of Stravinsky's,
I hurry to Minsky's and try to forget.
I don't
like Schubert's music
or Schumann's.
I'm one of those humans
who only goes in for Berlin
and Vincent Heumann's. I'm
for the guy that eludes
Fox sonatas
and Chopin preludes
So if some nice man I meet
I always murmur, toot sweet
If you want to thrill me
And drill me for your crew
Sing me a melody
that's red, hot, and blue
Before you expand on
that grand cottage for two,
sing me a melody
that's red, hot, and blue.
I can take Sevilleus or Delius,
but I swear I'd throw my be
st pal away for Calloway.
So when we're all set
and I get married to you,
don't let that violin start
playing low an d grin.
It may be sweet as sin,
but it's not red, hot, and blue.
If you ask me, toots,
just what puts me in a stew
Just sing me a melody
that's red, hot and blue
If I'm quite correct,
you expect me to come through
Just sing me a melody
that's red, hot and blue
This craze that's pursuing me
may ruin me,
but my Waterloo won't be
Wellington but Ellington.
So if you feel tonight's
like a light evening for two,
I've no desire to hear
Flagstaff's Brunhilde dear.
She waves a pretty spear,
but she's not red, hot, and blue!