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THE GHOST OF ROBERT JOHNSON Why
Why
Why
Is the sky all swabbed with blood
And the highway strewn with bones?
And why do the headstones tumble
And crumble from Clarksdale to Panther Burn
Under the creamy, bad dreamy midnight Delta moon?
The crossroads lay before me
Like a Crucifix in the cotton fields,
But I know the Lord's up north tonight,
The word came down on a church bell's peal.
A horned owl's perched on a dead oak tree,
Branches all knotted like an old washwoman's hand,
And I hear the whining and the pining
And the moaning in the marsh,
Droning on and on like a calliope
In a medicine show of the damned
And I'd bet the last dollar
That fills the hole in my pocket
It's Old Scratch's Lost Souls' Band.
And underneath that oak tree corpse,
Lazing by an unmarked grave,
With eyes that blaze like fired-up coals,
A little black man, he sings and plays
A guitar that's strung with brimstone strings
I got a kind hearted woman,
Do anything in this world for me.
And out in the canebrake
In devilish refrain,
There lifts a lonesome wail,
And he grins and he says to me,
"That ain't no gospel choir,
You got a hellhound on your trail."
And he sees the pouch I'm holding tight,
And he says, "Ain't no mojo hand
Gonna do you no good tonight."
He reeks of rotgut and the cold damp earth
And the wind's in a fury
Like a witchdoctor's curse.
He goes, "I know you? here
'Cause you heard the news
'Bout a gentleman in black who'll tune you up
And give you what it takes to play the blues.
Well, me and that fellow walk side by side,
So listen when I tell you,
Be careful what you learn,
'Cause a little bit of knowledge
Will give you an afterlife to burn."
Early this morning,
When you knocked upon my door,
I said, "Hello, Satan,
I believe it's time to go."
And I shiver and I shudder
And he capoes his guitar
With the thighbone of a cat,
And his fingers dance the fretboard
Like a brown recluse spider,
And he kicks at the skulls
That cakewalk round his shoes,
And says, "Pity the poor men who choose
To swap their salvation
To taste the liquor of the blues."
And then a cock crows for dawn
In a barnyard up the way,
And he lays down his guitar,
And he steps down in his grave.
And right before the pinebox lid
Slams shut on his head,
He declares, "This is all
I got left to say.
If you travel the crossroads,
Go by the light of day,
And mind your steps come nightfall,
Or you're gonna have Hell to pay."
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Author of The Plague Psalms... Joel Allegretti has a multifaceted background that encompasses literature, music, journalism and business. Born and raised in New Jersey, where he still lives, he began writing poems, short stories and plays at an early age. As a teenager, he discovered music and learned to play the guitar. He continued to pursue music seriously and has performed publicly for more than 20 years in concert, theater and on radio. He was twice nominated for a Garden State Music Award, co-sponsored by BMI. He has been the subject of a number of newspaper feature articles. As a poet, he has delivered numerous featured readings, often incorporating music into his performances. His first volume of poems, The Plague Psalms, was published in May 2000 by The Poet's Press. His poetry covers a broad and idiosyncratic range of subjects: the Black Death, Islamic Spain and the Phantom of the Opera, to name a few. A graduate of New York University with a degree in journalism and English, Allegretti began his professional life as a newspaper reporter and then moved into public relations, serving national and international organizations. He resides in Fort Lee, NJ.
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LEADBELLY Leadbelly, Leadbelly,
Dead & gone,
Who gonna sing his old blue song?
Box car wheels scrapin down the track,
Gettin out the word
He not comin back.
Who gonna break it to sweet Irene,
She no more in Leadbelly's dreams,
'Cause Old Leadbelly,
Dead & gone,
Pushin up daisies
On that cemetery lawn.
I hear a little boy cryin
In his bed,
Is he cryin 'cause he's hungry
Or 'cause Leadbelly's dead?
I hear a whistle down the road,
The Midnight Special's
Takin Leadbelly home.
I walk to the church
& the church is closed,
I hear some singin,
Must be his ghost.
I look to the sky
& heaven seems far,
I hear Leadbelly singin
In the stars.
I walk to Jerusalem
Just like John,
I hear Leadbelly singin
In the dawn.
I walk down the highway,
Prayin for peace,
I hear Leadbelly singin
In the trees.
I walk through the boneyard,
Night wind raves,
I hear Leadbelly singin
In his grave.
I walk to the river,
The river runs red,
I hear Leadbelly singin
In my head.
I say, Leadbelly, Leadbelly,
Where have you gone?
I gone up to heaven
From that old prison farm.
Leadbelly, Leadbelly,
You comin back soon?
That's me in the shadows
On the face of the moon.
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