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Langston Hughes  BRASS SPITTOONSClean the spittoons, boy. Detroit, Chicago, Atlantic City, Palm Beach. Clean the spittoons. The steam in hotel kitchens, And the smoke in hotel lobbies, And the slime in hotel spittoons: Part of my life. Hey, boy! A nickel, A dime, A dollar, Two dollars a day. Hey, boy! A nickel, A dime, A dollar, Two dollars Buy shoes for the baby. House rent to pay. Church on Sunday. My Cod! Babies and church And women and Sunday All mixed up with dimes and Dollars and clean spittoons And house rent to pay Hey, boy! A bright bowl of brass is beautiful to the Lord. Bright polished brass like the cymbals Of King David's dancers, Like the wine cups of Solomon. Hey, boy! A clean spittoon on the altar of the Lord. A clean bright spittoon all newly polished,- At least I can offer that. Com'mere, boy! PORTER I must say Yes, sir, To you all the time. Yes, sir! Yes, sir! All my days Climbing up a great big mountain Of yes, sirs! Rich old white man Owns the world Gimme yo' shoes To shine Yes, sir! LIFE IS FINE I went down to the river I set down on the bank. I tried to think but couldn't, So I jumped in and sank. I came up once and hollered! I came up twice and cried! If that water hadn't a-been so cold I might've sunk and died. But it was Cold in that water! It was cold! I took the elevator Sixteen floors above the ground. I thought about my baby And thought I would jump down. I stood there and I hollered! I stood there and I cried! If it hadn't a-been so high I might've jumped and died. But it was High up there! It was high! So since I'm still here livin' I guess I will live on. I could've died for love- But for livin' I was born. Though you may hear me holler, And you may see me cry- I'll be dogged, sweet baby, If you gonna see me die. Life is fine! Fine as wine! Life is fine! I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh, And eat well, And grow strong. Tomorrow, I'll be at the table When company comes. Nobody'll dare Say to me, "Eat in the kitchen," Then. Besides, They'll see how beautiful I am And be ashamed - I, too, am America. - Langston Hughes, 1925 "Harlem" What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore - And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over - like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just sags like a heavy load. Or does it explode? - Langston Hughes, 1951 Back>>> |
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