Heart strings in need of thumbing, in the bath the sound of drumming, that thunder clouds are coming means the jazz is blowing tonight.
Tromboning since noon, the sax is in tune.
It'll be bassoon.
It's waxing the moon and the jazz is blowing tonight.
Crowding in for the squeeze like Mickey on cheese, so cool it might freeze, locking the keys so the singer can sneeze that beautiful wheeze, because the jazz is blowing tonight.