| Lyrics |
*love is better than a warm trombone, when blown, softly by a two tone, brother*down on luck by chance, caress her head off at the boogaloo trance
With his hands in his pocket he could not lie
With his hands in his pocket he began to cry
With his hands in his pocket he lowered his eye*he said miss I guess I ought to apologise, I've been fallin, I'm falling down
The river of your lovelorn souls is getting deeper than the deepest dish washing bowl*now brother get the dirt off your hands, it's getting darker than a sun-chaser's the sun tan
With his hands in his pockethe could not lie
With his hands in his pockethe began to cry
With his hands in his pockethe lowered his eyes*he said miss, I guess I ought to apologise, I've been fallin, I'm falling down
With his hands in his pockethe began to cry
With his hands in his pockethe could not lie
With his hands in his pockethe lowered his eyes*he said miss, I guess I ought to apologise, I've been fallin, I'm falling down
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