Lost in the sweet rock and roll,
I hear the wailers shout;
Jerry Lee and Elvis, Little Richard,
what the music was about.

Living life up to the hilt,
the pounding of the piano;
like a fighter in the ring,
like Rocky Marciano.

Their opponent was the square,
today theyre called a nerd;
but it was rhythm and it was blues,
that through the void we heard.

Chuck Berry's song were gutty,
the lyrics interwoven;
he told Tchaikovsky the news,
and rolled on over Beethoven!

And Fats just walked us home,
past old Blueberry Hill;
said it was a shame,
I can them singing, still.