Classic Poem

VERSE

There's an island not so tropical,
But a topical spot.
No palm trees sway,
But you'll find it hotter than hot.
Strangers go there to relax a bit
And to wax a bit gay.
When they write home,
Here's what they have to say:

REFRAIN

Music ev'rywhere, feet are pattin',
Puttin' tempo in old Manhatt'n.
Ev'rybody is out high-hattin',
Spreadin' rhythm around.
Ev'rywhere you go, trumpets blarin',
Drums and saxophones rip and tearin',
Ev'rybody you meet is rarin',
Spreadin' rhythm around.
Up in Harlem in any flat
They give it that thing
Which accordin' to one and all
Is what they call swing.
Those who can't afford silks and satin,
Dames with gigolos who are Latin,
Come from Yonkers, the Bronx and Stat'n,
Spreadin' rhythm around.