You Oughta See

Tune: Joseph Kosma's "Autumn Leaves"

You oughta see
My broken wrist-bone;
You oughta see
The black and blue;

My fingertips
Have lost their feeling,
And what they did
No longer do:

Now my tennis game
Has gone to seed,
Nor can I box
Apollo Creed;

But my chicken-scratching scrawl
Is one thing
You oughta see
Least of all.