Tekst piosenki
Poverty Stricken But Still I'm A-Stickin' To The Things I Know To Be Facts One Day It's Feathers And The Next Day Chicken While I'm Pickin' My Yakety Axe Ev'rybody Says That I Never Will Get Far, Keepin' Out Of Work By Pickin' This Guitar Livin' On A Shoe-String, Puttin' Off Things Like A Shave And A Hair Cut Money Don't Matter As Long As I Scatter A Little Bit Of Happiness Around If People Keep A Grinnin' I Figure I'm A Winnin' My Good Old Yakety Sound City Folks Go Around Turnin' Up Their Noses And Countin' Their Greenbacks And Smellin' Their Roses But I Wouldn't Trade My Yakety Axe, Even For A T-Bone I'm Confessin' I Never Took A Lesson, All My Notes Are A Matter Of Guessin' Hopin' They'll Come Out In Some Kinda Of Manner That'll Make The Yakety Sound So If You're In The Mood And Your Feet Start Tappin' And You Feel Laid Back And Your Hands Start Clappin' Then I'll Have Done What I Wanted To From Way Back You're Diggin' My Yakety Axe Now, A Pick
