| Mop mop! |
| A thousand years ago
|
| Mop mop! |
| A guy named Jungle Joe
|
| Was a drummer man in a Zulu band
|
| That made swing history
|
| Mop mop! |
| One day the king said «Gate!
|
| Why Gate, you old reprobate
|
| I commission you, find a riff that’s new
|
| Or your wig belongs to me.»
|
| Joe’s knees started knockin'
|
| So scared he was stiff
|
| 'Til he noticed the tribe was rockin'
|
| As his knees beat out this mellow riff
|
| Mop mop! |
| From the tropic’s heat
|
| Mop mop! |
| Came this jungle beat
|
| Though old Joe is gone, his jive lives on
|
| And it still is making history
|
| Joe’s knees started knockin'
|
| So scared he was stiff
|
| 'Til he noticed the tribe was rockin'
|
| As his knees beat out this mellow riff
|
| Mop mop! |
| From the tropic’s heat
|
| Mop mop! |
| Came this jungle beat
|
| Though old Joe is gone, his jive lives on
|
| And it still is making history |