People always call Chuck Berry the great rock 'n' roll poet of the 50s, but see if this lyric for Ben E. King's "Spanish Harlem," by the late Jerry Leiber, doesn't send chills up your spine:

There is a rose in Spanish Harlem / A red rose up in Spanish Harlem / It is a special one, it’s never seen the sun / It only comes out when the moon is on the run / And all the stars are gleaming / Love is growing in the street, right through the concrete / Soft and dreaming.

There is a rose in Spanish Harlem / A rare rose up in Spanish Harlem / With eyes as black as coal, she looks down in my soul / And starts a fire there and then I lose control / I have to beg your pardon / I’m going to pick that rose and watch her as she grows / In my garden.

Don't even get me started on "Yakety Yak."