Chicago [1920's Slang] Poem by R.K. Cowles

R.K. Cowles

hudson falls, new york

Chicago [1920's Slang]

Left my dump, off to the cafe
Ankling it, no need for a hack
I'm a johnnie walker
Stopped a bit to jaw a little
With two wiseheads before work
As we discuss how one of their coffee-and-donut doble
Keep klunking out on them
When I arrived
I poured me a cup of joe
Then took a powder
To find me an ameche
To arrange a get together for tonight
With my tight squeeze
I get back and drink the joe
Shortly afterwards I get jingle-brained
Then I threw a joe
I wake to find me in this heap
Someplace in a back of alley
And was being pulled out by three goons
I recognize them
Once they get me inside their hideout
I'm still jingle-brained
I realized I drunk a mickey finn
Now I'm in a jam
I recognize the butter and egg man
As the baddest gangster in upstate New York
I also recognize the rest of the chopper squad
Who I use to drink out of the same bottle with
Don sends one of his hatchmen to get the seventh
Each one of these numbers were well-heeled
With Chicago typewriters
Couple of them had dinchers in there kissers
Another asks for one of their ciggies
The big cheese, that comes off as a nance
Tosses his deck to him and tells him to pipe down
Then he slaps my lid of my keyster
I know I'll be grilled about dust I know about
I can see by their get-ups
They have heavy sugar
The hard-boiled gimp tells me to level with him
He thinks I know alot the couple I'm working with
He mentions they're his biggest rival
Who don't want to play ball with him
All I am is a pearl diver in their restaurant
I don't know their potatoes of capers
I tell him he's tooting the wrong ringer
'All I do is wash dishes.'
They don't seem to be in that type of racketeering
Then two bins ankles in
He tells them get in the back
Few minutes later two skirts arrive
'Keep those other two company'
'This is business'
He tells me once he was left holding the bag
He never got his dib from my big cheese
My big cheese according to the head gangster
Gave him the Chinese squeeze
He apparently became my big cheese's patsy
And refered him as a smooth
Need to bring this chin to a conclusion with me still intact
At this time, the gals in the back were giggling
Maybe this joint is wet with giggle water
Mr. Levy then says
'I'll have one of my goons sock your scnozzle, savvy? '
He wants me to rat out
If there were anyone planted on the inside of his operations
As if a pearl diver, like myself know anything
Then a dish with a pretty pan enters
Don then asks her
'Why do you gals always come when I'm doing business
He takes out his bank roll
Which seems to be at least a pair of Cs
Or possibly more
He places some lettuce in her hands
Then suggests she take the other gals out and dry up
She has these big bubs
Which i'd like to put my flippers on
Just then she puts her lips upon his
Then i realize she's his moll
Knowing I shouldn't get dizzy with this dame
I tell him don't get ing bing
Then confess ish kabibble
About neither his nor his rival's bee's wax
Well, jeepers creepers
It's not getting duck soup
In convincing him I know nothing
I believe soon he'll be gashouse with me
Sure enough he put his paws upon my pipes
Which sent my pump to leap out of my pipes
From the heebie jeepies
He pours himself some yack yack bourbon
And then takes a snort of it
He says 'Says you'
'Now start singing, tell me who's the inside guy'
'Or I'll have one of my goons put the broderick on you'
I've remembered I've had sap poison upon my head before
He orders one of his goons to sock my peeper
I get dry gulched
It was so hard I know I have a goog
One of the fellas asks
If he should take me for a one way ride
Then I see him jerking a nod
Just then a Chicago pineapple flys through the window
I think I'll be out of this dump in a Chicago overcoat
One of the goons grabs the Chicago pineapple
Tosses it out of another window
They all begin to burn powder
I duck to stay out of the Chicago lightning
I see lead smashing into everything in sight
One of the fellas takes a shiv to me
Once the Chicago lightning ends
Mr. Levy and his goons are nowheres to be seen
I take to the air
Covering up the Harlem sunset
With a rag that was by the door
Today hasn't been much of a cat's pajamas
I get outside find myself in front of an old hash house
Then I hear 'Grab a little air'
I look around and see buttons
Waving their buzzers at me in one hand
And the other their pieces

This appears in my book 'Slang Poetry Volume I' on

R.K. Cowles

hudson falls, new york
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