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 cried, "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 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"      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"