Scatsville

Ran to Penn Station and mad my train
Immediately fell asleep until I heard
The conductor say:
"Next stop Where-it's-Atsville."
Sunlight on the Hudson an amber glow
Like "Crepuscule with Nellie" dialed down low
When I reached my stop
The platform sign said:"Scatsville."
I said:"Wait!" and I turned around
But the doors where closed and the train was gone
And I though:"This ain't Where-I-hang-my-Hatsville."
And the question I asked of each passerby
Was met with the same singsong reply:
"Jack, you are now in Scatsville."
Balabala
It's the language of madmen
When you talk through your hat
My Eleventh Commandment's:
"Thou Shalt Not Scat!"
"Thou Shalt Not Scat!"
Mr. Feather sighed and he seemed depressed
When I complained of scat on my blindfold Test
So how
How'd I get to Scatsville?
Like every saxophonist who play bop
It's a little habit that hard to stop
One day you find yourself in Scatsville
You find yourself in Scatsville
Balabala
You find yourself in Scatsville
With all the cats in Scatsville