| Song | Stompin' At The Savoy |
| Artist | Red Garland |
| Album | Red Garland's Piano |
| Lyrics：Andy Razaf Music：Benny Goodman/Chick Webb/Edgar Sampson | |
| Savoy, the home of sweet romance, | |
| Savoy, it wins you with a glance, | |
| Savoy, gives happy feet a chance to dance. | |
| Your old form just like a clinging vine, | |
| Your lips so warm and sweet as wine, | |
| Your cheek so soft and close to mine, divine. | |
| How my heart is singing, | |
| While the band is swinging, | |
| I'm never tired of romping, | |
| And stomping with you at the Savoy. | |
| What joy - a perfect holiday, | |
| Savoy, where we can glide and sway, | |
| Savoy, let me stomp away with you; | |
| The home of sweet romance, | |
| It wins you at a glance, | |
| Gives happy feet a chance to dance. | |
| Just like a clinging vine, | |
| So soft and sweet as wine, | |
| So soft and close to mine, divine. | |
| How my heart is singing, | |
| While the band is swinging, | |
| I'm never, never, never tired of romping, | |
| And stomping with you at the Savoy. | |
| What joy - a perfect holiday, | |
| Savoy, where we can glide and sway, | |
| Savoy, let me stomp away with you. |
| Lyrics: Andy Razaf Music: Benny Goodman Chick Webb Edgar Sampson | |
| Savoy, the home of sweet romance, | |
| Savoy, it wins you with a glance, | |
| Savoy, gives happy feet a chance to dance. | |
| Your old form just like a clinging vine, | |
| Your lips so warm and sweet as wine, | |
| Your cheek so soft and close to mine, divine. | |
| How my heart is singing, | |
| While the band is swinging, | |
| I' m never tired of romping, | |
| And stomping with you at the Savoy. | |
| What joy a perfect holiday, | |
| Savoy, where we can glide and sway, | |
| Savoy, let me stomp away with you | |
| The home of sweet romance, | |
| It wins you at a glance, | |
| Gives happy feet a chance to dance. | |
| Just like a clinging vine, | |
| So soft and sweet as wine, | |
| So soft and close to mine, divine. | |
| How my heart is singing, | |
| While the band is swinging, | |
| I' m never, never, never tired of romping, | |
| And stomping with you at the Savoy. | |
| What joy a perfect holiday, | |
| Savoy, where we can glide and sway, | |
| Savoy, let me stomp away with you. |