The Manhattan Transfer Stomp of King Porter Lyrics
Gather roun' 'n hear my story
'Bout the time when Jelly Roll was in town
(Stompin' it off, stompin' it off)
He heard a local pianist
Stompin' out music on an old upright piano
Here comes King
That was downright ragged in a Scott Joplin way
(Here he comes, master of the stomp)
Ol' Jelly knew the fella could play
By the things he heard his right hand say
(Now, we're gonna romp)
(There was no doubtin' that the man could swing)
When Jelly Roll demanded his name
Hail, King Porter
Well, the man responded "Porter King"
Well, Jelly lef' th' city, but he wrote
Why' wanna dig I'm
A rompin' ditty 'bout the Porter
Why' gonna dig I'm
Who was "King O' The Stomp"
Porter King sho' can stomp
Jelly wrote a ditty 'bout a fella who could romp
This is the tune "King Porter Stomp"
When Porter's stridin' hands are flyin'
An' all his fingers are testifyin'
His two feet stompin' in ragged time
That's a feelin' that is so sublime why' dig it?
He's generatin' so much excitement
Why' keep forgettin' just what uptight meant
N' that's that fella named Porter King
His style's the essence o' swing
(Well, well, well)
Oh, well, go on n' tell it
When Jelly first heard Porter King
He declared he heard the very heart an' soul of swing
A certain ragged kind o' romp
In between a jump and a stomp
When Jelly heard, well, he really knew
Because he played too
That Porter was a King, really n' truly a stone king
Another thing, somethin' never heard of
"Somethin' else" is the sort o' phrase
A fella'd prob'ly have t'use
If'e was gonna describe
The way Porter plays
There never was an never's gonna be
Another strider fine as he
I know no other ear will ever hear another like it here
Who you hunchin'?
Dig them stompin'
See them bunchin'
Sweat is poppin'
Funk is droppin'
Heat is massin'
Time is passin'
Swing is ragin'
Hey, stop that
That stomp knocked me outta my hat
Who's that abusin' piano?
Tell me his name, because he's boun' f' fame
'N how'd he figure such rhythm?
Did he bring it here with I'm?
What kinda cat is King Porter?
Plinkin' an' plunkin' that romp he calls a stomp
Everybody groovin' and gigglin'
Mercy, take a look at that wigglin'
See the cutie in the corner
She's losin' her blues by stompin' outta her shoes
The folks are hoopin' n' hoppin'
Dig how all the fingers're poppin'
Over there's a wild cat stone drunk
The floor be his bunk
Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp
Just keep on ballin' till we
Start fallin' right through the floor
It's so natch'ral
You want more?
Come git it
Porter, he's the King
He knows how to stomp an' swing
That's King Porter
Master of how to stomp
Outside the moon is beamin'
Inside the joint is steamin'
Them folks can really, really party
All night long
Gits everybody rompin'
Then everybody knows that one thing
Who's the absolute master of stomp?
The rollicking Rajah of Romp?
The plinkin'est plunker
This side o' the border?
Who? Except King Porter
Who is the King of the keys?
An' constantly able to please?
An' who tickles ivories like nobody livin'?
That's King Porter, he's the man
Unloosen yo' shoes
(Unloosen yo' shoes)
Start payin' them dues
(Start payin' them dues)
Git shed o' them blues
Git shed o' them
Dang them blue, you don't shed 'em, you lose
Spend a quarter
(Spend a quarter)
Give the order
(Give the order)
Mister Barrellhouse man git t' stompin'
Make 'em git hot, git 'em rompin
The got t' dig King Porter stomp
Written by: Ferd Morton, Jon Hendricks
Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.