Sam With the Showing Scalp Flat Top

Sam with the showing scalp flat top

Particular about the point it made

Why, when I was knee-high to a grasshopper

This black juice came out on a hard shelled chin

And they called that, tobacco juice

I used to fiddle with my back feet music for a black onyx

My entire room absorbed every echo.

The music was, thud like

The music was, thud like

I usually played such things as rough-neck and thug

Opaque melodies that would bug most people

Music from the other side of the fence

A black swan figurine lay on all color lily pads

On a little conglomeration table of pressed black felt

With same color shadows, in seamed knobbed knees, and what-nots

The long hallway rolled out into oddball odd

Beside the fly-pecked black doorway

That looked closed on the tar-lattice street

Up a wrought iron fire escape

Rolled out a tiny wooden platform with dark, hard, dark rubber wheels

Roll, skreek, roll, skreek, roll, skreek!

Sam with the showing scalp flat top

Particular about the point it made

Sam was a basket case

A hardened dark ivory clip held, saleable everyday pencils

I wish I had a pair 'o bongos

Bongo fury

Bongo fury

Ow! Bongo fury (boogie)

Bongo fury

Bongo fury

Bongo fury