That old black magic that you weave so well
Those icy fingers up and down my spine
That same old witchcraft when your eyes meet mine
That same old tingle that I feel inside
and then that elevator starts it's ride
And round and round I go, up and down I go
like a leaf that's caught in the tide
I think my mother was right.
Later on, later on Dave and I took our own records into the front room
and played early guitar heroes like Chet Atkins, Chuck Berry,
Duane Eddy and James Burton, Charlie Christian and Leadbelly.
But to me the greatest of all these guitar players was a blues man from
Chicago called Big Bill Broonzy. We played all of these records,
constantly, on that radiogram.
When Dave and I had our first rehearsals with our school skiffle group,
all those rehearsals took place in that same front room.
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"That Old Black Magic" as written by Johnny Mercer Harold Arlen
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