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Search results for 'jazz me blues by teresa brewer'

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Let Me Go, Lover

- Artist: Joan Weber
- peak Billboard position # 1 for 4 weeks in 1955
- competing versions charted by Teresa Brewer with
Jilted
Teresa Brewer
Written by Robert Colby and Dick Manning

Peaked at # 6 in 1954


Jilted, I've been jilted
You've found a new love
Let Me Go, Lover

- Artist: Joan Weber
- peak Billboard position # 1 for 4 weeks in 1955
- competing versions charted by Teresa Brewer with
me are mad for turtle meat

Jazz police I hear you calling
Jazz police I feel so blue
Jazz police I think I'm falling,
I'm falling for you
Jazz music, jazz music, jazz music

In the 40's came be-bop, the first be-bop
The real be-bop, so let me talk about
Diz' and Byrd, givin' the word
pimple head, pick 'em up picky

I roll wit globs and I come real sticky
Ripping the mic, I plug it up in your ears
Crazed and brewer. I'm coming out like
And you're makin' good)
Back in the old routine
Oh, give me the jazz, the razzamatazz
And we'll tread on Heaven's scene
Back in the old routine

I'd give
Davis, that Bitches Brew, that "beeeyatch" said by Playboy Too

This is jazz, this is funk, this is soul, this is gospel
This is sanctified sex, this is
pimple head, pick 'em up picky

I roll wit globs and I come real sticky
Ripping the mic, I plug it up in your ears
Crazed and brewer. I'm coming out like
the buddah blues
My name Joe my name Joe
There is a king in Thailand
And he plays the jazz drum

He has a fine and healthy son
Oh no I'm not the one
My
we got jerked but still invented them
Wicked litle kick it joints that got us ghetto wheight
And also kept the jazz alive by pulling off the plates
the blues come out to play,
And jazz leaves her number...
It's funny, she always says:

"Well, the city lights fly by me,
As their eyes are getting heavy.
girl to sing me a song.
Put a jazz band on my hearse wagon.
Raise Hell as I roll along. 

Roll out your rubber tired carriage,
Roll out your old
And jazz and blues records during the day
Also Debussy on the third program
Early mornings when contemplation was best
Going up the Castlereagh hills
pimple head, pick 'em up picky

I roll wit globs and I come real sticky
Ripping the mic, I plug it up in your ears
Crazed and brewer. I'm coming out like
chain
So my friends'll know I died standin' pat.

Get six gamblers to carry my coffin
Six chorus girls to sing me a song
Put a twenty-piece jazz band
a boss, he sang Jazz and Blues

Ah ah ah ah
Ah ah ah ah
Cacciatore
La da da da da
La da da da da
Limousines
Ah ah ah ah
Ah ah ah ah
Ciao amore
La
and he's good news,
But sumping kind of tells me that he's nursing the blues

In High, High So-,
High So-ci-,
High So-ci-ety.

He's got the blues
and he's good news,
But sumping kind of tells me that he's nursing the blues

In High, High So-,
High So-ci-,
High So-ci-ety.

He's got the blues
and he's good news,
But sumping kind of tells me that he's nursing the blues

In High, High So-,
High So-ci-,
High So-ci-ety.

He's got the blues
and he's good news,
But sumping kind of tells me that he's nursing the blues

In High, High So-,
High So-ci-,
High So-ci-ety.

He's got the blues
Coltrane and her cosmic strains
Still no vocal on blue black horizons

Your plasticity is tested by a formless assault
The sun can answer questions in
curdling like cream,
as I was being led by the hand.
through the sound of sirens--
and the distant noise of some drunken jazz band,
through the stench
me

No more bein' poured drink specials at winners
Or being ignored by the think straight sinners
I used to smoke pinners while my moms made dinner
Now
to be bold--in an unknown city
I was feeling strong mouthed, but weak willed.
When I ran into the cure...for my ills
Don't tell me what your name is
I