Untitled (not the old songs)

Please do not sing the old songs,

     They simply make me tired;

I cannot bear to listen

     To anything inspired.

I want the new and spicy,

     Which border on the tough;

The kind that smack of peaches,

     And all that sort of stuff.

I want the greasy Coon songs,

     With rag-time coming fast;

The songs about those chippies

     Who have a shady past.

Please do not sing the old songs,

     They’re slow and out of style;

Sing something new and classic,

     To hold me for a while.

Aug. 3, ‘99

NOTE – I’ve left what are often inappropriate or even racial terms and or descriptions as written. They are rare, and probably weren’t seen as objectionable within even New England society at the time. More importantly, they exist, and editing them out would be dishonest. Things were what they were. Still, including them, as I have done, remains awkward for obvious reasons, including personal taste and the harmfulness of their use. Hopefully, doing so will at least present an accurate picture of how ingrained some prejudices, or at least callousness to them, still were at the time, even among some of the more progressive people of the era.