Hip Cat

One day he said to himself,
"All I want to do is to make jazzzzzy music."
So he picked up his sax-
what his friends called his "ax"-
and tipped his beret and said,

"Scat, cat. Go, cat, go!
Hip Cat daddy-O's got a horn to blow!"

It was a bebop-
rebop city,

a bongo-congo roller-coaster-jazz-in-your-bones city.

Hip Cat moseyed along,
singing a song
swinging his sax.

He slipped into MiNnie's CaN Do on Fillmore and said,
"Sweet Minnie, I want to blow my horn!"

Big Max the Manx cat was reading poetry at the mike,
stomping the floor to the rhythm of his words.

And when he was through,
our hip cat hero with a horn to blow BLEW.

He wailed his song of longing,
his song of joy,
his song of loneliness and looniness-

and the crowd went CRaZy.

Oobie-doobie blaa blaa blaaa
shoobie wa-ditty, my cat is a kitty

His new fans loved him and Minnie hugged him

so wa bebop-a-wamma bing bang blam

He was a bad cat

He hit all the jazz joints in town,
looking for a gig
that would pay the rent.
He was getting tired of living in a tent.

But the joints were owned by the top dogs.
If cats wanted to make it
they couldn't fake it.

He said,
"If dogs can run free,
why not me?"

So Oobie-do played his sax under the bridges.
He played in the fog
and he played on the ridges.

He played all day
and he played all night.
He played for no pay
but he kept up the fight.

But he had to eat, and there was no money in sight.
So he played his sax at all the tourist traps.
Tourists with cameras tossed coins in his cap.
Then he became a short-order cook
at the Doggie Diner.

But he knew
he could do
something
a whole log finer.

One night, he slipped back into MiNnie's CaN Do.

Minnie said,
"Oobie-do, how do you do?"
Oobie-do said,
"I'm feeling kind of blue."

Minnie said, "Sing it. You can do."

Big Max and some minx cats and cats in minks
were jamming on their axes, playing some licks.

They said, "Who's that cat, the cat from the sticks?"
Then they remembered, and shouted, "OObie-do!
Do what you do, let the cats out of the zoo!"

So he blew his horn
all bluesy and forlorn.
Then he started singing better than ever,
remembering the river
where he was born:

Oobie-do ee blaa blaa blaaa so wa bebop-a-wamma bing bang blam shoobie
wa ditty my cat is a kitty oobie-do ee blaa

Then Oobie-do blew everybody away with his horn.

And pretty soon word got around.
Even the top dogs paid top dollar
for Oobie-do to wail at all the clubs.

He played in the hungry i.
He played in the Hungry You.
He played in the Purple Onion

and when he was through...
...the crowds went hOg WiLd.

Now wherever he went he went in style.
He tore down his tend and paid the rent.
He ate tall ice creams and paid all his bills.

They called him a jazz magician,
a great musician,
and a poet of the blues.

And when he rode the cable cars over the hills,
his feet flew out in his shiny new shoes.

Oobie-do shouted,

"Do what you love to do,
and do it well!"

He was a hip cat daddy-o with a tale to tell.
He told it with his music
and his oobie-do wa-ditty-wa shoobie-wa-day.
My cat is a kitty and we play all day.

Even the fat cats
and the river rats
back home
listened to his music on the radio.

They called him,

"One cool daddy-o."

He was

the long
sleek
cat man.

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