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St. JAMES INFIRMARY/Stigmata Medley by NORMAN B STIGMATA by Norman B The first thing that I thought was "OUCH!" The second thing was (More) STIGMATA by Norman B The first thing that I thought was "OUCH!" The second thing was wonderin' "Why?!" I stumble an' I crumble to a crouch An' mumble "If it wasn't fo' the stigma, I would cry." Slower, now, I'm slumpin' in a slouch. Don't stare at me! There's sompthin' in my eye! If I could make it home I'd tumble to the couch. Yeah. Today looks like a real good day to die. I sho' wish that sompthin' cud save me, But I never learned the Rosary. Tryin' t' stop a-thinkin' 'bout my baby, I took a walk down by the grocery, But my min' was on the tenderness she gave me, And the softness of her hosiery. If I could see her ag'in, well, jus' maybe ... OH, NO! Unh-uh! No sirree! Since I found out that I didn' matter, Gittin' madder didn' matter t' you, I see myself sinkin' steadily sadder. Oh, it doesn't matter! Boo-hoo! Still stuck in all the stuff o' that stigma, Or I'd ha' been bawlin' all the time that you been gone. You were my Gamma Lambda Alpha Delta Sigma. Yeah! You were the one that I had been dependin' on. Now I exist without excitement or enigma, Knowing not what kind of countenance to don, For, due to you, the very hue of my pigme- ntation turns from whatever way it once was to wan. Since I found out that I didn' matter, Gittin' madder didn' matter to you, I see myself sinkin', steadily sadder, O! It doesn't matter! Boo-hoo! ST. JAMES INFIRMARY (Traditional, anonymous) I went down to the St. James Infirmary To see my baby there. She was lyin' on a long white table, O, So sweet, so cool, so fair. I went in to see the doctor. "She's very low," he said. I went back to see my baby. O, Great God! She 'as lyin' there dead! I wen' down t' Ol' Joe's Barroom On the corner of the square, Where they were servin' the drinks as usu'l, And the usu'l crowd was there. On my left stood Joe McKennedy, (Jorma C., below) His eyes bloodshot red, He turned to the crowd around him, Yes, and these are the words he said: "Let her go! Let her go. God bless her, Wherever she may be." She may search this wide world over, But she'll never find a man like me. When I die, please bury me In my high-top Stetson hat, Put a gold piece on my watch chain So they'll know I died standin' pat. Get six gamblers to carry my coffin, Six chorus girls to sing my song. Put a jazz band on my tailgate, To raise hell as we go along. That's the end o' my story. Let's have another round of booze, An', if anyone should ask you just tell them That I got the St. James Infirmary blues. ("corner OF the square" from Bobby Blue Bland's version.) JORMA COCOANUT'S LAMENT by Norman B "Let her go! Let her go. God bless her, Wherever she may be." She may search this wide world over, yeah, But she'll never find a man like me! When I die, please bury me In my high-top PF Flyers, An', for my roach clip please leave me My needle-nose pair of pliers. Get six smugglers to carry my coffin, Six party girls to sing my song. Put a rock band on my tailgate, We'll praise Jah as we go along. Now, that there's the end o' my story. Let's pass a number 'round the room, An', if anyone should ask you jus' tell them That I've got the St. James Infirmary blues. I sho' wish that sompthin' cud save me! Ohh! (p)(c)2008 Norman Schulerud Bie, Jr. All rights reserved. First performed live at Guy Hoagland's weekly poetry meeting at the Central Avenue Arts Center in St. Petersburg, Florida, in 1985. NOTE: Before PF Flyers, all tennis shoes were made of hemp. (Less)
St. JAMES INFIRMARY/Stigmata Medley by NORMAN B STIGMATA by Norman B
The first thing that I thought was "OUCH!"
The second thing was (More) STIGMATA by Norman B
The first thing that I thought was "OUCH!"
The second thing was wonderin' "Why?!"
I stumble an' I crumble to a crouch
An' mumble "If it wasn't fo' the stigma, I would cry."
Slower, now, I'm slumpin' in a slouch.
Don't stare at me! There's sompthin' in my eye!
If I could make it home I'd tumble to the couch.
Yeah. Today looks like a real good day to die.
I sho' wish that sompthin' cud save me,
But I never learned the Rosary.
Tryin' t' stop a-thinkin' 'bout my baby,
I took a walk down by the grocery,
But my min' was on the tenderness she gave me,
And the softness of her hosiery.
If I could see her ag'in, well, jus' maybe ...
OH, NO! Unh-uh! No sirree!
Since I found out that I didn' matter,
Gittin' madder didn' matter t' you,
I see myself sinkin' steadily sadder.
Oh, it doesn't matter! Boo-hoo!
Still stuck in all the stuff o' that stigma,
Or I'd ha' been bawlin' all the time that you been gone.
You were my Gamma Lambda Alpha Delta Sigma.
Yeah! You were the one that I had been dependin' on.
Now I exist without excitement or enigma,
Knowing not what kind of countenance to don,
For, due to you, the very hue of my pigme-
ntation turns from whatever way it once was to wan.
Since I found out that I didn' matter,
Gittin' madder didn' matter to you,
I see myself sinkin', steadily sadder, O!
It doesn't matter! Boo-hoo!
ST. JAMES INFIRMARY (Traditional, anonymous)
I went down to the St. James Infirmary
To see my baby there.
She was lyin' on a long white table, O,
So sweet, so cool, so fair.
I went in to see the doctor.
"She's very low," he said.
I went back to see my baby.
O, Great God! She 'as lyin' there dead!
I wen' down t' Ol' Joe's Barroom
On the corner of the square,
Where they were servin' the drinks as usu'l,
And the usu'l crowd was there.
On my left stood Joe McKennedy, (Jorma C., below)
His eyes bloodshot red,
He turned to the crowd around him,
Yes, and these are the words he said:
"Let her go! Let her go. God bless her,
Wherever she may be."
She may search this wide world over,
But she'll never find a man like me.
When I die, please bury me
In my high-top Stetson hat,
Put a gold piece on my watch chain
So they'll know I died standin' pat.
Get six gamblers to carry my coffin,
Six chorus girls to sing my song.
Put a jazz band on my tailgate,
To raise hell as we go along.
That's the end o' my story.
Let's have another round of booze,
An', if anyone should ask you just tell them
That I got the St. James Infirmary blues.
("corner OF the square" from Bobby Blue Bland's version.)
JORMA COCOANUT'S LAMENT by Norman B
"Let her go! Let her go. God bless her,
Wherever she may be."
She may search this wide world over, yeah,
But she'll never find a man like me!
When I die, please bury me
In my high-top PF Flyers,
An', for my roach clip please leave me
My needle-nose pair of pliers.
Get six smugglers to carry my coffin,
Six party girls to sing my song.
Put a rock band on my tailgate,
We'll praise Jah as we go along.
Now, that there's the end o' my story.
Let's pass a number 'round the room,
An', if anyone should ask you jus' tell them
That I've got the St. James Infirmary blues.
I sho' wish that sompthin' cud save me! Ohh!
(p)(c)2008 Norman Schulerud Bie, Jr. All rights reserved. First performed live at Guy Hoagland's weekly poetry meeting at the Central Avenue Arts Center in St. Petersburg, Florida, in 1985.
NOTE: Before PF Flyers, all tennis shoes were made of hemp. (Less)
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