Posted by: W. E. Poplaski | July 1, 2008


by Helene Johnson (1906 – 1995).




Little brown boy,                                                                                 

Slim, dark, big-eyed,

Crooning love songs to your banjo

Down at the Lafayerre–

Gee, boy, I love the way you hold your head,                          5

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.                                    10

And I love your teeth flashing,

And the way your hair shines in the spotlight

Like it was the real stuff.

Gee, brown boy, I loves you all over.

I’m glad I’m a jig. I’m glad I can                                                  15

Understand your dancin’ and your

Singin’, and feel all the happiness

And joy and don’t care in you.

Gee, boy, when you sing, I can close my ears

And hear tom-toms just as plain.                                               20

Listen to me, will you, what do I know

About 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,                                              25

And everything.

Say, I think you’re wonderful. You’re

Allright with me,

You are.




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