Swingtime Poem by James Mills

Ah, the 'low decadent decade'
when Sally Bowles invented black
stockings and poets thought Germany
shone with ideas worth thinking.

Swing was born - under a new moon;
an articulate child, sassy,
jazzy, slick and slim; America
on song, sashaying across dustbowls
and dancefloors, airwaves and sirens.

Spain disembowelled herself,
Italy lost her fashion-sense;
dressed in black, looked back to Caesars
and Popes; sought a new renaissance.

Swing spoke-easy - took note of naught
but taut lyrics and great, big-bands
all black and white, all rhythmic nights
of moving stars in Hollywood bars.

Always a swinger, the little
corporal batoned up and swung.