Caroling Dusk/Poem (Johnson)
For works with similar titles, see Poem.
POEM
Little brown boy,Slim, dark, big-eyed,Crooning love songs to your banjoDown at the Lafayette—Gee, boy, I love the way you hold your head,High sort of and a bit to one side,Like a prince, a jazz prince. And I love Your eyes flashing, and your hands,And your patent-leathered feet,And your shoulders jerking the jig-wa.And I love your teeth flashing,And the way your hair shines in the spotlightLike it was the real stuff.Gee, brown boy, I loves you all over.I’m glad I’m a jig. I’m glad I canUnderstand your dancin’ and yourSingin’, and feel all the happinessAnd joy and don’t care in you.Gee, boy, when you sing, I can close my earsAnd hear tom toms just as plain.Listen to me, will you, what do I knowAbout tom toms? But I like the word, sort of,Don’t you? It belongs to us.Gee, boy, I love the way you hold your head,And the way you sing, and dance,And everything.Say, I think you’re wonderful. You’reAllright with me,You are.