Little Dots

Well, the Mystery Man came over
An' he said: "I'm outa-site!"
He said, for a nominal service charge,
I can reach nervonna t'nite
If I was ready, willing 'n able
To pay him his regular fee
He would drop all the rest of his pressing affairs
And devote His Attention to me
But I said . . .
Look here brother,
Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?
Look here brother,
Don't you waste your time on me

Well, the Mystery Man got nervous
An' he fidget around a bit
He reached in the pocket of his Mystery Robe
An' he whipped out a shaving kit
Well, I thought it was a razor
An' a can of foamin' goo
But he told me right then when the top popped open
There was nothin' his box won't do
With the oil of Afro-dytee
An' the dust of the Grand Wazoo
He said:
"You may not believe this, little fella,
But it'll cure your Asthma too!"
An' I said . . .
Look here brother,
I just can't go for what you say
Well, I've been on the streets since Tuesday
Now why don't you just go away

I've got troubles of my own, I said
An' you can't help me out
So take your meditations an' your preparations
An' ram it up yer snout
"BUT I'VE GOT A KRISTL BOL!," he said
An' held it to the light
So I snatched it
All away from him
An' I showed him how to do it right
I wrapped a newspaper 'round my head
So I'd look like I was Deep
I said some Mumbo Jumbos then
I told him he was goin' to sleep
I robbed his rings
An' pocket watch
An' everything else I found
I had that sucker hypnotized
He couldn't even make a sound
I proceeded to tell him his future then
As long as he was hanging around,
I said
"The price of meat has just gone up
An' yer ol' lady has just gone down . . . "
Look here brother,
Who you jivin' with that Cosmik Debris?
Go spread that stuff around San Francisco,
But don't you waste none of your time on me

Thank you. Thank you.

Okay, now— Now we're gonna play something that contains within—within it—its own devious little boogie. But before you get to the boogie there's a bunch of weird stuff on either side of it. And the name of this tune is "Little Dots." And it features Dave Parlato on bass and Jim Gordon on drums, grinding it out.

Thank you.

There was a man and a dog
Squattin' on a log
He had him bitin' on a stick
Until the bark was all gone
Here, little fella
Sit up and beg
Open your jaws
And lift up your leg
That little doggie's name was Rollo
His little doggie dealie was hollow

A little while later on
Further down the road
There was a lady and a man
Who was about to get blowed
Here, little fella
Sit up and beg
Open your jaws
And lift up your leg
That little husband's name was Rollo
And his old lady's name was Swallow

Rollo, if you love me, do like I told ya
And fetch unto me a baroque magnolia

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Suppose we were to just sort of make something up, right here on the stage, would that be offensive to you? Okay.

Blues, jazz? Suppose— Suppose it was none of the above. Suppose some of those other things crept into it periodically. All we'd like to do is just to extend our imagination a little bit up here and see what happens. Okay?

(Alright. Let's start off with uh— with the steel drum, and the bass, and the baritone oboe.)

I wonder what this will sound like. If it's too crappy, we'll quit.

(Alright. You're ready? How about . . . Let's do it— do it a waltz.)

You can dig it, couldn't you?

One, two, three . . . one, two, three . . .

We'd like to thank you very much for coming to our concert tonight. Hope you enjoyed it. We're gonna— This song isn't exactly over yet. It's almost over. But I just wanted to tell you we appreciate the fact that you came down here tonight. And now, for the thrilling conclusion of that invented song . . .

Thank you! Good night.