Uncle Sam

Album cover art for "Uncle Sam" by Peter Skellern

Peter Skellern - Pop

Uncle Sam

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Duration: 4:32

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Lyrics

Uncle Sam was a dreary old man He worked in the bank all day He counted the millions for everyone else And nineteen pounds ten Was his take-home pay But when he got home And the curtains were drawn He'd kick off his shoes And pick up his horn He'd play that thing Give it swing Being and bopping like the Fourth of July Then one day he packed his bags And up and left the bank He boarded a liner for Carolina Which in mid-Atlantic sank So he swam to an island And crawled up the sand And when the natives got restless He'd strike up the band He'd play that thing Give it swing Being and bopping like the Fourth of July Uncle Sam grew sad at heart He knew he'd be there forever But he'd stay alive, cos he was smart And the natives weren't very clever And when ships came into sight The Morse code he'd play But he never got far Cos he got carried away [a few bars of Morse on the piano] He'd play that thing Give it swing Being and bopping like the Fourth of July Uncle Sam grew old and frail And there on the shore he died The native chiefs buried him deep With his trumpet by his side And still to this day When the moon's in the trees An eerie sound Is heard on the breeze He'd play that thing Give it swing Being and bopping like the Fourth of July (Hit me, Jimmy!)

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