The Note in Horace Tapscott’s Head

I was the Note
Slidin round in his head
The supple, mellow style
Stroking ivory, then black

Pidding, ping ping
Padda da daaa!
Yeah!

Tender strong fingers leaning into me
Thumpin, coaxing, demanding….
Rocking, ripping,
Then he let me go…

Pidding, ping ping
Padda da daaa!
Yaah!

I was the Note frolickin round in his head!
He let me cool off, just a beat
Then he rocked back
and touched me with a tease

Oh, Yaaah!
Pidim…pidim…pidim, ping-ping
Pam! Pam! Pam! Padam, Pam-Pam!
Yeaaaaa….

Red-headed Sista with manufactured dreads,
Rocking to the rhythm lost in da groove.
Shivering with the heat of the Tapscott beat
And the Sista with lips that were beautiful to see,
Black as midnight and soft as the moon

And Horace…Ah, Horace…
Jammin steady and sweet
Stroking for the Sista who was tasting with her eyes
While Brothas looking on just rocked and screamed
Feeling the rhythm..of ivory and steel
Pidim…pidim…pidim, ping-ping…
Pam! Pam! Pam! Padam, Pam-Pam!
Yeaaaaa….!
And me…I was just happy to be
The Note sliding round in his head.

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