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 said: 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 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 said: 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