| Lyrics: | Excuse me, Mr. Hoots,
I hate to bug a busy bird,
But I want to learn the sax,
And I need
a helpful word-
I always get a silly squeak
When I play the blues.
Ernie, keep your
cool,
I'll teach ya how to blow the sax.
I think I dig your problem-
It's rubber, and it
quacks.
You'll never find the skill you seek
Till you pay your
dues.
Chorus:
You gotta put down the duckie,
Put down the duckie,
Put down the
duckie,
Yeah, you gotta leave the duck alone.
You gotta put down the duckie,
Put down
the duckie,
Put down the duckie,
If you wanna play the saxophone!
You didn't hear a
word I said,
You gotta get it through your head.
Don't be a stubborn cluck,
Ernie, lay
aside the duck!
I've learned a thing or two
From years of playing with a band:
It's hard
to play the saxophone
With something in your hand.
To be a fine musician,
You're
gona have to face the facts:
Though you're blessed with flying fingers
When you wanna wail,
you're stuck-
What good are flying fingers
If they're wrapped around a duck?
Change the
toy's position,
If you wanna ace the sax!
(Repeat chorus)
Don't have to put it on a
train,
Don't have to wash it down the drain,
Don't have to lock it in a drawer,
Don't
have to shove it out the door.
Don't have to put it in your pocket,
Or send it flyin' in a
rocket!
Don't have to get it out of town!
Ernie, put the quacker down!
(Repeat the
chorus twice) |
