I was born on a farm out in Ioway,
A flaming youth who was bound that he’d fly away,
I packed my grip and I grabbed my saxophone.
Can’t read notes, but I play anything by ear,
I made up tunes on the sound that I used to hear;
When I’d start to play folks used to say,
"Sounds a little Goofus to me."
Cornfed chords appeal to me,
I like rustic harmony,
Hold the note and chant the key,
That’s called "Goofus."
Not according to the rules
that you learn at music schools,
But the folks just dance like fools.
They go "Goofus."
Got a job but I just couldn’t keep it long,
The leader said that I played all the music wrong,
So I stepped out with an outfit of my own.
Got together a new kind of ochestree,
And we all played just the same "Goofus" harmony,
And I must admit,
we made a hit,
"Goofus" has been lucky for me.
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