Belutha Hatchie [1930 Slang Poem] Poem by R.K. Cowles

Belutha Hatchie [1930 Slang Poem]



Hanging out with my homeboys
Discussing tomorrow night's hop
One of them I had to tell him
Gif up off of me, because he's nuts!
I leave to get to my job at the radio station
Not knowing what's to come
Everyone there would be gumming the works
To make it seem I'm at a ginny gall
I spot an apple seller
I stop to get a Fuji
I see this twit I need to avoid
Only to find out later in the day
I walked into a gun mob instead
That reefed my folding greens
I then pass the arena
To find out no barter will be accepted
For this evening's bout
Farther down
I spot a bank run
I found out I'll be put on the radio as a spieler
Switching the platters from one to another
This is not the kind of thing
I'm comfortable with
I'm a jitterbug for this job
I must be cut with it
Or I'll be on the beach
I know it won't be a bang
Can't they give me a job I'll fly with?
But first the lowdown with the word
With this draped-down gum beater
Two nights ago I could tell
He was hoary-eyed by looking into his pies
Although he's whacky at times
This abie is no wet socket
He does his job aces
Even when hoary-eyed
I pass a wood shed of two
This appears there's a lot of squirrel fever
The censors will have a field day with that piece
I arrive to find out the gum beater has broken cheaters
So when he should say
'A torch has been going around burning homes
He says
'A touch has been going around turning bones
And when he should say
'Shooting horse into one's veins'
He says this
'Shouting a house in one's vines
In the fish booth I can see
Indian hay being passed around
If the manager of the station finds out
He'll be blowing his top
And this crumb with a balmacaan
And a pig meat with him
With this nearer my god to thee
Then this crawk
With an almost hoarse throat
That always wearing a dinner jacket
Is suppose to make sounds of the jungle
But it sounds more like household appliances
So it sounds like you're in a safari
For household appliances
Then a fairy godfather
Is now demanding more from the station
Or he'll take a powder to another
Then this wood chopper
Now thinks this program is mickey mouse to him
He's history now with radio
He's now making platters with a bunch cats
I have to shake a leg to get to the mic
Or there'll be a lot of square
I think I goof with other jobs than this
Then this gaffoon
Lets his child play with his props
The dirk sounds more like two people smooching
Early in the day
A scout master
Has stop an affiliation with the station
They've been searching for a new one
Before the end of the week
Or the bacon will decrease
After me spinning platters
We have this town crier
This caused problems
Keeping up with the sound levels
Someone made a brodie
And played some of the cliff hangers' episodes for next week
This means the listener know the crunch
Earlier in the day
Our hog calling contest did not produce new spielers
For our new show next month
Even though it took each individual ten bashes
Another one is scheduled later in the week
Everything seems not to be turning out solid
This madame cadenza ends up spilling
Some of her hooch on the microphone's wires
We replace them with off the cob ones
Not only had that she gone so far
As crast the listener
I don't know who allowed her to swigged her booze
To get her soused up
But everything is not cool
Someone handed me a bunch of platters
With adenoid on them
I was cringing the whole time listening to them
Then this great voice from a scag shows up
For a live variety show
Also in it is an Abercrombie
That walks in with his Norfolk jacket and his filly
Then this hot little number
And another frail enters
We just wait for the arrival of this drip and genius
Then I can stop spinning these plugged nickels
I should have went to the local music shop for the right platters
To make the day sweet
Like Cab Calloway

POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
From ' Slang Poetry Volume I'on lulu.com
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
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R.K. Cowles

R.K. Cowles

hudson falls, new york
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