| There’s a man in New Orleans
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| Who plays rock and roll
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| He’s a guitar man
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| With a great big soul
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| He lays down a beat
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| Like a ton of coal
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| He goes by the name of King Creole
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| You know he’s gone, gone, gone
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| Jumping like a catfish on a pole
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| You know he’s gone, gone, gone
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| Hip shaking King Creole
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| When the king starts to do it
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| It’s as good as done
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| He holds his guitar
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| Like a tommy gun
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| He starts to growl
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| From way down in his throat
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| He bends a string
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| And «that's all she wrote»
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| You know he’s gone, gone, gone
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| Jumping like a catfish on a pole
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| You know he’s gone, gone, gone
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| Hip shaking King Creole
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| Well, he sings a song about a crawdad hole
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| He sings a song about a jelly roll
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| He sings a song about pork and greens
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| He sings some blues about New Orleans
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| You know he’s gone, gone, gone
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| Jumping like a catfish on a pole yeah
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| You know he’s gone, gone, gone
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| Hip shaking King Creole
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| He plays something evil
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| Then he plays something sweet
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| No matter how he plays
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| You got to get up on your feet
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| When he gets a rocking fever
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| Baby, heaven sakes
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| He don’t stop playing
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| 'Till his guitar breaks
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| You know he’s gone, gone, gone
|
| Jumping like a catfish on a pole
|
| You know he’s gone, gone, gone
|
| Hip shaking King Creole
|
| You know he’s gone, gone, gone
|
| Hip shaking King Creole |