Contactez-nous

• Artiste: Cab Calloway
• Titre: Black Rhythm
Assurez-vous que les corrections sont tout à fait exactes
S'il vous plaît, les mettez en évidence en quelque sorte!
Vous pouvez, par exemple, écrire
INCORRECT: avant la mauvaise ligne
CORRECT: avant la correspondant ligne correcte
Autrement, nous ne pouvons les corriger pas! Merci pour votre aide.
Down in Louisiana There's a grand piano-playing man; He knows that they can't kid him 'Cause he's got hot rhythm in his hand. The blues that he'll compose will thrill you From your head to your toes. He called his song "Black Rhythm," 'Cause his black hands did it 'neath the moon, The keys he plays on sweetly, And you're left completely in a swoon. The melancholy strum Mixed with the rum-tum of melodious blues. When he plays the blue note, And adds a new note, You'll think that he wrote a symphony. But he's just improvising On a southern mammy melody. You'll quit your pouting, And start a'shouting, No need in doubting he knows the keys. He can lay on the white ones, Can play on the black ones with ease. The way he plays Black Rhythm Makes the gang stick with him all night long, Forget the hour is late, They hear him syncopate his mournful song. A'humming like the breeze, A' strumming lightly on those ivories.