One the coolest cats to walk this here earth.

He, the son of a miner, know’d what it was to got nothin’.

Shee-oot to know what it is to got nothin’,

you gotsta have NOTHIN’!

An’ he sure as hell did e’ry an’ any crazy ol’ thing to make a buck,

an’ that’s what got his Lord Buckley his castle and his royal court.

 

The orda’ estends to all who partake an’ believe it exists.

E’ryone in his house, where alls are welcome,

no matta’ how poor or down on yo’ luck yous may be,

e’ryone getsa title of Lo’d or Lady, Prince or Princess, Duke or Dutchess.

Coulda been a millionaire or a prostitute off the corna’

it didn’t matta’, e’ryone was royalty inside his castle.

 

The Great Depression was what folks like to call real “dark times”

so he shook whateva’ needed some good shakin’ to cheer ‘em on up.

‘Course he’d be doin’ his wildman act, shuckin’ and jivin’,

but soon as he spotted any young, blue-eyed honey he’d get real close.

He’d palm a sandwich and ask her on a date, an’ she’d say no, she a lady.

He give ‘er a lettuce, no, a tomato, still no.

He yell “Let me make passionate love to you!” an’ she say no.

Ain’t that the darndest thing,

you give a woman dinner an’ she still reject ya!

 

He didn’t care whetha’ yous was white, black,

rich, poor, funny, famous, dangerous, or strange.

He was all ‘bout spreading love to folks, an’ upliftin’ cats

whos needed some white light an’ good vibes in ‘eir lives.

He’d smoke fatties an’ top off his pockets with quarta’s before leavin’.

Walkin’ down the block, any cat squatin’ gots one’a them quarta’s.

He’d say it’d get ‘em a hot meal, or be an investment in some’ns future.

 

Believe in yo’self, that’s what the Lord say.

An’ never fo’get how beautiful you is, or the powers that yous got,

the powers to do whateva’ it is that you is destined to do in this life.

In the words of the Lord, “Don’t go dyin’ before you is killed!”

Be sure yous is livin’, upliftin’ and spreadin’ wealth an’ kindness,

there’s always mo’ than enough to go ‘round!