Uncle Sam was a dreary old man

He worked in the bank all day

He counted the millions for everyone else

And nineteen pounds ten

Was his take-home pay

But when he got home

And the curtains were drawn

He'd kick off his shoes

And pick up his horn

He'd play that thing

Give it swing

Being and bopping like the Fourth of July

Then one day he packed his bags

And up and left the bank

He boarded a liner for Carolina

Which in mid-Atlantic sank

So he swam to an island

And crawled up the sand

And when the natives got restless

He'd strike up the band

He'd play that thing

Give it swing

Being and bopping like the Fourth of July

Uncle Sam grew sad at heart

He knew he'd be there forever

But he'd stay alive, cos he was smart

And the natives weren't very clever

And when ships came into sight

The Morse code he'd play

But he never got far

Cos he got carried away

[a few bars of Morse on the piano]

He'd play that thing

Give it swing

Being and bopping like the Fourth of July

Uncle Sam grew old and frail

And there on the shore he died

The native chiefs buried him deep

With his trumpet by his side

And still to this day

When the moon's in the trees

An eerie sound

Is heard on the breeze

He'd play that thing

Give it swing

Being and bopping like the Fourth of July

(Hit me, Jimmy!)