| Skinny white sailor, the chances were slender
|
| The beauties were brief
|
| Shall I mourn you decline with some thunderbird wine
|
| And a black handkerchief?
|
| I miss your sad Virginia whisper
|
| I miss the voice that called my heart
|
| Sweet Gene Vincent
|
| Young and old and gone
|
| Sweet Gene Vincent
|
| Who, who, who slapped John?
|
| White face, black shirt
|
| White socks, black shoes
|
| Black hair, white strat
|
| Bled white, died black
|
| Sweet gene Vincent
|
| Let the blue cats roll tonight
|
| At the sock hop ball in the union hall
|
| Where the bop is their delight
|
| Here come 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 reet complete
|
| And you jump back honey in the dungarees
|
| Tight sweater and a pony tail
|
| Will 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
|
| And you lay that pistol down
|
| Sweet Gene Vincent
|
| There’s nowhere left to hide
|
| With lazy skin and ash-tray eyes
|
| A perforated pride
|
| So farewell mademoiselle, Knickerbocker Hotel
|
| Farewell to money owed
|
| But when your leg still hurts and you need more shirts
|
| You got to get back on the road |