"Sing You Sinners" as written by Sam Coslow and W. Franke Harling....
Once a mockingbird - he was overheard
Singing out a word - to a cattle herd,
'All you bovine creatures - dig what I'm layin' down!

All you sinners drop everything.
Let the melody and the harmony ring.
Let it ring
Lift arms up to Heaven and sing.
Sing you sinners, won't you sway & swing
What a thing

Start with clapping' y'hands all about.
All about
Don't be silent - Let the Lord hear y'shout
Shout it out
And just let the music come out
Of yer snout
Sing you sinners, wontcha' sway & swing
Check it out
Dig the drift of what I mean

In a world where there's no music - Old Scratch
Satan gets his kicks - He's up to his tricks
He'll be laughing up & down the banks - He, He, He!
Of that River Styx

You're so wicked, baby, and you're depraved
You can rave
It's apparent that you have mis-behaved
To your grave
But if you should want to be saved
Jus' behave
Take a listen now to the bird

Stop all that chewin' yer cud and all that standin' in the mud there.
Swing, people! Swing every chortle from yer mortal portal.
I dig that everyone believes that cattle prodigies are like a sneeze:
Hard blowin', missin one lick of blowin' talent to show.
If you sing, you gotta swing

Just remember that the day will come
When you will just be steak on a plate.
Folk, you know it's fate!
So dig the music of the swing-o-sphere
Before yer swing arrives too late.

That's a little too dark.
Still, it is true, we've got breath for such a limited time.
What are ya', stupid? You cows you'd think to sing was a crime.

In defence now, hence now, here comes Adele McCluck:

Cheryl's solo)
Mrs. Mockingbird, I must say,
You haven't heard the friendly bellowing swing
Of our friends the cows as they shed their way from Teagarden to Fuller.
Instead of spendin' every day just sneakin' around to lift another lick
These cats work on their cow-tone
So when they get up to blow a
Fatter bone-tone

Into the ozone.
And, furthermore

You tweety birds are always singin' away,
Never givin' up a thought of what you say.
We cows do, shedding takes up most of our day
So when we start and settle in to play we can say:
A moo is an array of what cows have always known as the best and
Only way to play.

What we mean to say is
Before the band will let you sing
Sing with Fletcher Henderson
You'd better get yourself to swing
Like the Bean or Satch
So your horn can blow a single note or two of deeper thinking
That's the way to swing
So set your mind upon a tone
When you're sheddin' all alone
And you will have a cornerstone
Like the bass trombone
Blow your horn and take a bow
So that you're swingin' like the cows
Pythagoras would be so proud of us.

Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings

"Sing You Sinners" as written by W. Franke Harling Sam Coslow

Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

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Sing You Sinners song meanings
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