I'm not, the coolest guy
And I ain't got
Those Bublé eyes
But when I hear
That old-school sound
In my mind, bells they chime
Ring-a-ding
I got a thing for swing
Pretty girls
They start to swoon
And hummingbirds
Dig the way I croon
But when the band starts up
You can't sit down
So ditch the blues
Grab your dancing shoes and a bling
I got a thing for swing
Sure, nobody sings like Sinatra
Or moves like Sammy
Jokes like Thee
But I'm my own man
When the band starts to play
I'm halfway to Vegas, in my dreams
M'oh I'm not, the coolest guy
But I'll never stop
Till the day I die
I'll fade to black
With that old Rat Pack
Wish I was born
When the sound of chords was king
So let those bells ring-a-ding
Got a thing for swing
