A Blue Serge Suit - Cab Calloway

He isn’t hep to jive, he’s only half alive

Hep cats call him square

You won’t believe this jack

All his clothes date back

To '29 I swear

He wears a blue serge suit with a belt in the back

No drape, no shape, just a belt in the back

Strictly calm and he’s off the cob

Wears a pocket watch with a pearly fob

He’d be just as sharp in a sack

As in the blue serge suit with the belt in the back

He isn’t old and grey but he’s so passé

Swing bands make him frown

He don’t get no kicks

From boogie-woogie licks

Oh he’s dead but he won’t lay down

He wears a blue serge suit with a belt in the back

No flare, so rare, just a belt in the back

He thinks a cat is a household pet

His favorite dance is the minuet

Maybe one day he’s gonna crack

And burn that blue serge suit with the belt in the back

He’s got a gal named «V», she’s twice as square as he

What a gruesome pair

The way they fuss and frown

When gators strut on down

Is more than I can bear

He wears a blue serge suit with a belt in the back

A pip, a zip, a belt in the back

He wears high shoes and a pair of spats

If you dig that junk it’ll drive you bats

Maybe some day he’s gonna crack

And burn that blue serge suit with the belt in the back