I got of New York City, of its sidewalks and its heat So I got myself a great big horse and I rode him the street And I hollered, "Hi, ho, Silver" and, "Get 'em up, Scout" But I aggravation and a great humiliation So I finally I'd let the story out
You can't ride a big white into the front of Gatsby's door You call out, "Hi, ho, Silver" as you scoot across the floor Twenty big Italians had me down on my knees And I cried, "Oh, ouch, Lord" and, "Mama Mia, please"
Well, he into a cantor down around ol' Times Square And my cowboy boots and hat, I left them somewhere way there he stomped and reared and turned and bucked And took off to the And I slid through Gatsby's Restaurant with his tail stuck in my
But you can't ride a big white horse the front of Gatsby's door You call out, "Hi, ho, Silver" as you scoot across the floor Twenty big Italians had me bent down on my And I cried, "Oh, ouch, Lord" and, "Mama Mia, please"
Now, down at Gatsby's Restaurant, there's a picture hanging Of a petrified Italian with in his hair And there's a big, white horse rug lying by the And I'm washing dishes in the and sweepin' up the floor
But you don't ride a big, white horse into the front of door You call out, "Hi, ho, Silver" as you scoot across the floor big Italians had me bent down on my knees And I cried, "Oh, ouch, Lord" and, "Mama Mia, please"