Skinny white sailor, the chances were slender, the beauties were brief
Shall I mourn your decline with some Thunderbird wine and a black handkerchief?
I miss your sad Virginia whisper, I miss the voice that called my heart
Sweet Gene Vincent
Young and old and gone
Sweet Gene Vincent
Who, who, who slapped John?
White face, black shirt
White socks, black shoes
Black hair, white strat
Bled white, died black
Sweet Gene Vincent
Let the blue caps roll tonight
At the Sock Hop Ball in the Union Hall
Where the bop is their delight
Here come duck-tail Danny dragging uncanny Annie, she's the one with the flying feet
You can break the peace, daddy sickle grease because the beat is reet complete
And the jump-back honey in the dungarees, tight sweater and a pony-tail
Will you guess her age when she comes back-stage, the hoodlums bite their nails
Black gloves, white frost
Black crêpe, white lead
White sheet, black knight
Jet black, dead white
Sweet Gene Vincent
There's one in every town
And the devil drives till the hearse arrives
And you lay the pistol down
Sweet Gene Vincent
With nowhere left to hide
With lazy skin and ash-tray eyes
And perforated pride
So farewell, mademoiselle knicker-bocker hotel
Goodbye to money owed
When your leg still hurts and you need more shirts
But you got to get back on the road
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