I got tired of New York City, of its sidewalks and its heat

So I got myself a great big horse and I rode him down the street

And then I hollered, "Hi, ho, Silver" and, "Get 'em up, Scout"

But I suffered aggravation and a great humiliation

So I finally said I'd let the story out

You can't ride a big white horse into the front of Gatsby's door

You can't call out, "Hi, ho, Silver" as you scoot across the floor

Twenty big Italians had me bent down on my knees

And I cried, "Oh, ouch, help Lord" and, "Mama Mia, please"

Well, he broke into a cantor down around ol' Times Square

And my cowboy boots and hat, I left them somewhere way back there

Then he stomped and reared and turned and bucked

And took off to the South

And I slid through Gatsby's Restaurant with his tail stuck in my mouth

But you can't ride a big white horse into the front of Gatsby's door

You don't call out, "Hi, ho, Silver" as you scoot across the floor

Twenty big Italians had me bent down on my knees

And I cried, "Oh, ouch, help Lord" and, "Mama Mia, please"

Now, down at Gatsby's Restaurant, there's a picture hanging there

Of a petrified Italian with escargot in his hair

And there's a big, white horse rug lying by the door

And I'm washing dishes in the back and sweepin' up the floor

But you don't ride a big, white horse into the front of Gatsby's door

You don't call out, "Hi, ho, Silver" as you scoot across the floor

Twenty big Italians had me bent down on my knees

And I cried, "Oh, ouch, help Lord" and, "Mama Mia, please"