There once was a chick
by the name of Finclucky,
who came from a place
somewhere in Kentucky—
Down on the farm
with his banjo at hand,
Finclucky decided
to start up a band!
‘Cluck’ went his voice
and cock-a-doodle-doo’s,
Finclucky would sing
the rhythm and blues.
‘Barnyard blues
has got me swaying—
listen to the sound
of the music I’m playing.’
Work all day
feeling heavy by night—
the mood of the music
will make things right!
Blowing on his trumpet (goat)
just flippin’ his lid,
was the barnyard blaster
‘The King Creole Kid’
Root, toot, toot
went the notes he was playing—
tapping his feet
while his legs were swaying.
‘Stop’ cried the farmer
‘Just stop that noise!’
There’s work tomorrow
for all you boys!
When the sun comes up
there’s milling and tilling—
Harrowing, ploughing,
drilling and filling!’
But Elmo James (bull)
turned up the heat—
He drummed to the rhythm
of the boogity beat!
Rat-a-tat, boom,
Shake, rattle and roll,
he played to the rhythm
with his heart and soul!
Upside down, (pig)
his hooves in a muddle
Muddie Waters came in
from the local mud-puddle—
‘What’s that noise?’
‘I was just sleeping,’
the rhythm of the music
is so mind sweeping!’
‘Give me wood
some metal, some tin!’
‘Oink’ went his voice
as Muddie joined in!
Now every band
needs back up singers
‘Quack’ went the sound
of ‘The Honky Tonk Swingers’!
One, Two, Three—
They started to waddle,
Doing a dance
called the Rowing Paddle!
‘Barnyard blues’
has got us singing
look at all the happiness
that it’s bringing—
Work all day
Feeling heavy by night—
The mood of the music
will make things right!
‘Stop’ cried the farmer
‘Just stop that noise!’
There’s work tomorrow
for all you boys!
When the sun comes up
there’s milling and tilling—
Harrowing, ploughing,
drilling and filling!
But as he spoke
his foot was tappin’,
Waving his arms
How could this happen?
The barnyard blues
had got him singing
Because of the happiness
that’s it’s bringing—
Work all day
feeling heavy by night—
The mood of the music
will make things right!
Oh, foot loose
and fancy free—
They played each night
‘til two or three—
The barnyard gang
was oh ‘hip-hoppin’
Stomping to the beat
of Finclucky’s do-woppin!
Is that how the South
gave birth to the blues?
Some say that it started
with cock-a-doodle-doo’s!
From Memphis, St. Louis,
somewhere in Kentucky,
The people still speak
Of this legend, Finclucky!