Now you gotta turn your ankles... Mr Berle, Mr Berle, I am not your pupil.

Some day you'll strip your arms of honors for me... your ankles, and your neck.

Maybe you're hunching, crossing your legs, maybe wrapping your ankles.

Crossing your legs, maybe wrapping your ankles sometimes we hold on to our arms like this.

Malcolm X had come into Boston and he had on his zoot suit with the wide brim hat with the long, three quarter length coat with the chain that went down to your ankles.