Hopscotch In Harlem 1948
EXCERPT (Approximately 30% of Poem)
From Summertimes and Monday Mournings
Hopscotch in Harlem
Children play ten square
Jump Jump all stare
Bahhh Bahhh Black sheep
Have you any cares?
Yes Sir Yes sir
More than my share
I’ve added all my Blues up
And I have some to spare.
Hopscotch in Harlem
Feels like a HOLIDAY
Don’t touch the Hi-Fi
Cause BESSIE wants to play.
A BIRD in the band
Is worth two in the bush
Heaven’s big enough for everybody
But still folks just push
Hopscotch in Harlem
The war is almost over
Daddy lost his leg
At least he has a head on his shoulder
The Bomber won in the last round
With a swift uppercut jab
Harlem’s too far from heaven
So it’s best you take a CAB
And if you want to be on time
I guess that TRANE will work out fine
I guess that TRANE will work out fine.
TENEMENT 103
“Mama why we got to live like this?
I’m sick of eatin’ beans an’ hominy grits.
Mama I’m sick of this sh-----“
“Shhhh watch yo’ mouth boy
You aint ol’ enough to fuss
I’m the only one in this house
Got a right to fuss.”
“Aint the Good Lo’d give you eyes boy
To see that yo Mama is busy?
Stop spinnin’ yo brother around
You gonna make him DIZZIE
Harlem Sunsets
Children dreaming
Voiceless vignettes
Harlems last gleaming
Broad stripes
And dim stars
Tears constantly streaming
The long hours of despair
Dreams dissolving in air
Gave proof through the night
That our Blues were still there
After all that dying
Those Blues were still there.
HOPSCOTCH IN HARLEM
One two
Yo’ Daddy loves you
Three Four
Mama loves you more
Five six
How’d you get in this fix
Even the Good Lord
Can’t clean up yo sh*%$
And when you’re behind
Is a good time to quit
Square number seven
Just getting started
Yo Mama went to heaven
Sad and broken hearted
Cussin’ an fussin’
Glad that she departed
Jump jump
Advance to number eight
Yo Daddy knockin’ on heaven’s gates
They wont let him in
Because he got there late
"I tol you they do ‘scriminate."
Yo’ Mama died from drinkin’ whiskey and wine
Go back two squares cause you stepped on the line
If you make it to square number nine
Than you’re really doing good
Jump Jump
God bless those who make it to ten
So lucky are them
This is how THEY play
Hopscotch in Harlem
M Ellis Pulitzer Eyes
Copyright © Michael Ellis | Year Posted 2009
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