Well, small-town jazzman makes the Apple;
Don't know a soul a-tall; 
Last gig was Wesley Chapel;
First stop: find the union hall.

 

Heard about some midnight jammin';
Hopped the A train way uptown; 
Found the spot on Amsterdam and
Heard that swingin' boppin' sound.

 

Sax sings sweet and bass keeps thumpin'
And the solo's never stop;
Groovin' beat is really sumpin'
They're calling it the HARLEM BOP!

 

Hopped up to the smokin' bandstand,
Time to show my down-home chops; 
Dipped my toe into the groovin' jam and
Laid my solo's on the HARLEM BOP.

  

From the street they catch the rhythm
Hit the dance floor 'n never drop; 
Folks keep truckin' and the band's right with 'em,
Whole house swingin' with the HARLEM BOP.

 

Small-town jazzman's got his night-spot
Where the groove-sound never stops; 
Folks go rockin' with the best the band's got,
Then we finish with the HARLEM BOP.