A Corn Shredder At A Palace Full Of Tarantula Juice [1920 Slang] Poem by R.K. Cowles

R.K. Cowles

hudson falls, new york

A Corn Shredder At A Palace Full Of Tarantula Juice [1920 Slang]

Had to slum to avoid a couple booboisies
That are over the edge everytime
That had nicked my tin can last month
When they red light me from it
One of these booboisies had dropped the pilot
Thier eye opener became too difficult
For both of them to handle
In this part of town
I know I'll be fixed by several pro skirts
Later on I'll be attending a straggle at a palace
With my baby, her girlfriend and her umbrella
My baby's favorite is the fox trot
She thinks it's the duck's quack
I've got to be square, I think it's potty
I prefer the shimmy and the tango
Her umbrella gets hush money tonight
While I have three aces in my kick
Hopefully my dog percolates tonight
So we'll be able to get to the palace
I pass this rummy who use to be a pug
Looking for simoleons from me
He is a airdale from the other side of town
I hope I can remember the password
It is Nevada rot gut
We won't be able to get into the gin mill
To get some horse linament
mixed with moo juice
I heard that a jazz band
Is performing some wang doodle
Can't wait to listen to the trumpeter
And those Armstrongs he plays
His trumpet playing is red hot to listen to
When I get to my pad, need to get out my dancing hikers
My baby most likely be in her pistol pockets
Which displays those sexy wheels of hers
And she'll don on her best chemise
Soon will middle aisle her
Will buy me an alibi for her new vase
She has bought at the local store.
I once was an absent treatment
Took me only a couple of months to be a good hopper
Now I'm on the trolley
A good thing we both are not fond of the one step
We don't believe it's pip
I'm now a sharpshooter
When I began I was off the deep end
I continue on down the street
I pass my neighbor's schlock
Who was side by side with a mustard plaster
I can tell the mustard plaster is a cluck
My baby and I usually like to give over knees
She's at some coop
Getting her Juliet jazzed
Although it's quite copacetic to me as it is now
I pass one of those can houses
That's too early to be open this easrly
Standing in front of it
Is this cancelled stomp
Which I piped earlier in the week was
So over the edge with the rams
Had pulled a Daniel Boone
As he shouted across the street
To a celler smeller who took the cancelled stomp
For a sleigh ride a month ago
'Close your head or I'll pop you'
I continue on
Because none of this is my potatoes
I could tell he has been taken for a sleigh ride many times
Because I pipe he's thicker than a $5 malt
I continue on to pass this flat wheeler
Who shacked up with a weasel awhile back who does cuttings
I can't imagine getting primed
Having several smells from the barrel from that stuff
I get in my tin can and arrive to my baby'shome
My baby her girlfriend and her umbrella sat on the porch
Listening to the radio
Hearing the song 'Nobody Knows You When You're Down And Out'
My baby turns the radio off
And all three ankles off it
And gets into the tin can
He looks like a scandler
It's going to be interesting
When the dance floor is crowded with him on it
We arrive with a group of apple knockers
Hanging in front of the palace
Having ciggies
Once inside a bell polisher sat in the lobby
Punching the bag with this lally gagger
About potty stuff
They're both a couple of Smith brothers
I then give the password, and we get in
The Tony De Sare trio was playing
'The Moon Shines on the Moonshine'
The umbrella gets his set up for his panther sweat.
His baby orders a double skee
My baby and I orders tarantula juice
He turns to me and says
'Hey, kiddo, get a look at that corn shredder
I reply ' Isn't that the blushing violet driving that bent car last month'
The song ends, then the trio plays 'My Man'
With a soprano
Then this horse partner and this baby vamp ankles onto the floor
I recognize him as this gate crasher
At last year's Valentine's Day Dance at the Dance Hall
Will be no necking later on
If my baby and I have a snoot full
Must scram early before we had too much belt
Soon the band begins another song
And everyone begins to hop the black bottom
Another jotum of skee
I'll need before I hoof the dance floor

This poem appears in the book 'Slang Poetry Volume I' on Lulu.com.this is in the 1920 slang section of the book.

R.K. Cowles

hudson falls, new york
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