[Verse 1] Mr Skiffington woke at dawn, With a trumpet in his hand, He'd been dreaming about Memphis But had somehow reached Weymouth Strand. He said, “Music is a mystery, You can't pin it to a wall,” Then played a chord from another dimension And blamed it on the cat next door. [Chorus] Mr Skiffington and his music influences, A suitcase full of rhythm and strange coincidences. A little bit of blues, a little bit of soul, A little bit of thunder from a telephone pole. He's got ghosts in the jukebox, Moonlight in his shoes— Mr Skiffington doesn't choose the music, The music chooses him to lose° [Instrumental break] [Verse 2] There's a little Hank Williams Sleeping underneath his bed, A battered Miles Davis record And a poem Dylan never said. Tom Waits is in the kitchen Making coffee out of rain, While Leonard Cohen's in the hallway Selling tickets to the train. [Chorus] Mr Skiffington and his music influences, A carnival of prophets and musical nuisances. A little bit of jazz, a little bit of rock, A little Mississippi hiding inside his sock. He's got ghosts in the jukebox, A midnight tattoo Mr Skiffington hears a thousand voices Every time he says, “How do you do?” [Bridge] Then the bass begins to tremble, And the ceiling starts to sway, There's a fiddle from the crossroads And a synthesizer from Bombay. A choir sings from nowhere, Someone whistles in the rain, And Mr Skiffington whispers, “Here comes that song again.” [Verse 3] He's got a little Nick Drake For the hours before the dawn, A touch of Captain Beefheart When everything has gone wrong. Some Velvet Underground For walking through the night, And a little Leonard Bernstein To make the darkness bright. [Instrumental break] [Final Chorus] Mr Skiffington and his music influences, A beautiful collision of improbable consequences. From the Delta to the stars, From the cellar to the moon, Every song he's ever loved Is humming out of tune. [Outro] So if you hear a strange melody Drifting down your street, With a bass line made of thunder And a rhythm made of feet— Don't ask where it's coming from, Don't ask who switched it on. It's Mr Skiffington's music… And Mr Skiffington's gone.
