A Tribute to Bud Powell
Da boo da boo, da boo da boo, da boo dee day, hear the sound of bebop,
When you hear Bud play piano, he blossoms,
Just like a thousand crocus in the spring.
Find your niche, da doe bee dee ba, da ba, da dee,
Right on pitch, the intonation can reveal, discordant sound.
Listen to the licks from the horn, beat of the drum,
Voicing of chords, fingers up on the keys.
Hear that riff? The trumpet can play melancholy,
Walk that bass, the groove that seems to mesmerize.
Its jazz you see, if you can play the changes and be free.
What a day! Blossoms bring color and joyful sweet remembrance;
Of fingers so dexterous, chords of outrageousness,
Buds Blossom, keeps blooming,
I hear him, now the bebop notes are flying off of the key.