Gunnar Madsen | MCMGM

Mozart’s at the Window (40th Symphony)

Now Mozart’s at the window
(Let him in, let him in, let him in!)
Now Mozart’s in the closet
(Let him out, let him out, let him out!)
He’s Here!
(Oh yes, he’s in your hair)
He’s There!
(Oh he is everywhere)
Now Mozart’s on the rooftop
(Let him in, let him in, let him in!)
He’s coming down the chimney
Now he’s tracking dirt around the house
He makes a whinny like a horse
And then he’s quiet as a mouse
He’s hiding underneath the sofa over there
Where’d he go? He seems to disappear into thin air
Here he is, I found him swinging from the chandelier
Drinking papa’s beer
In his underweer
In his underwear
In his underweer or wear, he’s always running here or there it’s true
So true
Oh, what will his poor mama say
When she finds he’s broken all the china
She got in France, which was hand-painted with a strange
medieval dance of tall men prancing in short pants
The prize begonias in the yard, were hit hard they never had a chance they’re
Trampled underneath the garden window
The roses too, spray painted blue, by you-know-who
He never never ever seems to give a worry or a care
He’s always spinning like a top, there’s always trouble in the air
There’ll never be a moment’s peace as long as little Mozart’s there
He is trouble everywhere, he is trouble everywhere
I swear
Now Mozart’s very quiet, it’s fishy. Suspicious.
Where is he now?
He’s skating on the sidewalk
He’s running in the hallway
He’s talking in the movies
He’s eating on the subway
He’s feeding all the meters
He’s mocking our great leaders
He’s hopped upon a jet plane
But now he’s stuck at John Wayne
He can’t be stuck at John Wayne
The air is stale at John Wayne
He’s growing pale at John Wayne
And now he’s at the Airport Hotel
He’s re-arranged the flowers
He’s splashing in the fountain
He’s calling for room service
The concierge is nervous
Now Mozart’s blowing smoke from a cigar
There’s chaos in the lobby
Bad Boy Mozart’s on the bar
Playing loud guitar
Now Mozart’s in his bedroom
(Let me out, let me out let me out!)
He’s grounded for the weekend
(Let me out, let me out let me out!)
Unfair! (Oh how he pounds the door)
Unfair! (Oh how he stomps the floor)
His mother’s wearing headphones
(Shut him out shut him out shut him out!)
Now Mozart’s sliding down the drainpipe by the window of his room
He lands as lightly as a cat and looks around him in the gloom
He’s got a backpack full of toilet paper with a faint perfume
(The rolls are flying high above the moon and up into the sky)
The trees will bloom
(Now each and every branch is dripping white his mom will surely cry)
Outside his room
The little booger’s howling at the moon
His mother can do naught but fret and fume
She’s written to his father in Khartoum
When dad comes home his son will meet his doom –
©2007 G Madsen ASCAP Mop Mop Music
GM: Piano, voices.