Oolamalawaladollar, That’s what the Fez he Sing

While it’s all gone quiet, I thought we’d have some music.

A long time ago at a Rugby Club far, far away, me and a young Julian Holland sat down and sang the following. He sang lead and did most of the work on the keyboard, and I was on harmonies.

In truth it wasn’t just me who accompanied him, but a hundred or so privileged drunks, their wives and girlfriends.

Mr Holland had been bought by the local coppers. Or rather, he’d put himself (and his talents) up for auction and would play at a venue of the bidders’ asking for an hour – ish. To cut a short story long, a local Nick won, one of the bidders, was both a copper and a player down our club and so Jools took time out from Squeeze, or The Tube, or whatever he was doing at the time and came to our club to sing.

With me.

Well that’s how I remember it, anyway. Mind you, such was the drunken state of many of us at the time, the lyrics to this song sounded perfectly sensible.

Give me iko
I wanna ball the wall here
Shuffle in Dumaine
Hear the hookacumbi
Meet my tipatina
Love her hold her tightly
Wanna see her swaying
In New Orleans nightly

You know I wanna be there
Drinking in the morning
Holler in the evening
Dr. Jazz Dr. Jazz
Bake my jelly roll
You quicken my pulse
You make my rhythm slow

Crawfish gumbo
Rhythm from the jungle
Big chief rocking
I follow the voodoo king
That’s what the fez he sing

How long must it be
How long must I wait
Till Highway 49 takes me to your gate
I eat a bowl of gumbo
That creole child will serve
Sit on the verandah
Happy in a dixie world

Maybe on Sunday
Head for Baton Rouge
Dancing with the cajun
Twist away my blues
Then a drop of rain
A trickle in my eye
I look up and smile
At the rhythm that never, never dies

4 thoughts on “Oolamalawaladollar, That’s what the Fez he Sing

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