Mama, I Wanna Make Rhythm

Yasha was a prodigy, since he was a kid of three
He could play a rhapsody as good as they come
But as strange as it may be, Yasha hated melody
He had a yen for tympany, he longed to play a drum

When his mother made him practice on the fiddle every day
He'd stop right in the middle and he’d say

Oh
Mama, I wanna make rhythm
Don't wanna make music
Just wanna go
Da-de-ah-de-ah-de-ah
De-ah-da-da-da-dee-dee-dee

Oh Mama
I wanna get hotcha
I wanna make boom-ba
I want to go
Da-ha-doo-dee-dee-do-da-ha
Hoo-da-due-dee-dee-hoo-dee
Hee-dee-hee-dee-hee-dee-hee-da-da-da

I've got no desire to carry a Stradivarius
But there’s no limit of primitive tom-tom in my tum-tum

Oh Mama!
I wanna make rhythm
Don't wanna make music
Just wanna go
Da-la-due-lee-dee
Tu-da-deh-dee-due-da-ha
Tu-dee-kee-dee-kee-dee-hahd-ha