With a silk umbrella and the handle of a broom,
Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, BOOм.

THEN I had religion, THEN I had a vision.

I could not turn from their revel in derision.

THEN I SAW THE CONGO, CREEPING THROUGH THE BLACK,

CUTTING THROUGH THE FOREST WITH A GOLDEN TRACK.
Then along that riverbank

A thousand miles

Tattooed cannibals danced in files;

Then I heard the boom of the blood-lust song

And a thigh-bone beating on a tin-pan gong.

10

15

And "BLOOD" screamed the whistles and the fifes of the warriors,

"BLOOD" screamed the skull-faced, lean witch-doctors, "Whirl ye the deadly voo-doo rattle,

Harry the uplands,

More deliberate. Solemnly chanted.

A rapidly
piling climax

of speed and

20 racket.

40

Blown past the marsh where the butterflies play:

"Be careful what you do,

Or Mumbo-Jumbo, God of the Congo,

45

All the "o" sounds

And all of the other

Gods of the Congo,

Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you,

very golden.

Heavy accents

very heavy.

Light accents

Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you,

very light.

Last

50

line whispered.

Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you."

Wild crap-shooters with a whoop and a call

Danced the juba in their gambling-hall
And laughed fit to kill, and shook the town,
And guyed the policemen and laughed them down.
With a boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, BOOM.

II. THEIR IRREPRESSIBLE HIGH SPIRITS

Rather shrill
and high.

55

THEN I SAW THE CONGO, CREEPING THROUGH THE BLACK,
CUTTING THROUGH THE FOREST WITH A GOLDEN TRACK.

Read exactly as in first section.

The inlaid porches and casements shone
With gold and ivory and elephant-bone.

And the black crowd laughed till their sides were sore
At the baboon butler in the agate door,
And the well-known tunes of the parrot band
That trilled on the bushes of that magic land.

A troupe of skull-faced witch-men came
Through the agate doorway in suits of flame,
Yea, long-tailed coats with a gold-leaf crust
And hats that were covered with diamond-dust.
And the crowd in the court gave a whoop and a call
And danced the juba from wall to wall.

But the witch-men suddenly stilled the throng
With a stern cold glare, and a stern old song:-
"Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you."-

Just then from the doorway, as fat as shotes,
Came the cake-walk princes in their long red coats,
Canes with a brilliant lacquer shine,
And tall silk hats that were red as wine.

And they pranced with their butterfly partners there,
Coal-black maidens with pearls in their hair,
Knee-skirts trimmed with the jassamine sweet,
And bells on their ankles and little black feet.
And the couples railed at the chant and the frown
Of the witch-men lean, and laughed them down.
(Oh, rare was the revel, and well worth while
That made those glowering witch-men smile.)

The cake-walk royalty then began

To walk for a cake that was tall as a man
To the tune of "Boomlay, boomlay, BOOM,"

While the witch-men laughed, with a sinister air,
And sang with the scalawags prancing there:-
"Walk with care, walk with care,

Or Mumbo-Jumbo, God of the Congo,
And all of the other

Gods of the Congo,

Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you.
Beware, beware, walk with care,
Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, boom.

Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, boom,

Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, boom,

Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay,

105

Slow philo-
sophic calm.

III. THE HOPE OF THEIR RELIGION

good old negro in the slums of the town.
ached at a sister for her velvet gown.
wled at a brother for his low-down ways,
prowling, guzzling, sneak-thief days.
t on the Bible till he wore it out
rting the jubilee revival shout.

1 some had visions, as they stood on chairs,

1

sang

of Jacob, and the golden stairs,

they all repented, a thousand strong,

m their stupor and savagery and sin and wrong

I slammed with their hymn books till they shook the room h "Glory, glory, glory,"

I "Boom, boom, BOOM."

EN I SAW THE CONGO, CREEPING THROUGH THE BLACK,

TING THROUGH THE JUNGLE WITH A GOLDEN TRACK.

the gray sky opened like a new-rent veil showed the Apostles with their coats of mail. oright white steel they were seated round

their fire-eyes watched where the Congo wound. the twelve Apostles, from their thrones on high, illed all the forest with their heavenly cry:imbo-Jumbo will die in the jungle; er again will he hoo-doo you, er again will he hoo-doo you."

n along that river, a thousand miles,
vine-snared trees fell down in files.
eer angels cleared the way

a Congo paradise, for babes at play,
sacred capitals, for temples clean.
e were the skull-faced witch-men lean.
e, where the wild ghost-gods had wailed
illion boats of the angels sailed

1 oars of silver, and prows of blue

silken pennants that the sun shone through. as a land transfigured, 'twas a new creation. a singing wind swept the negro nation on through the backwoods clearing flew:mbo-Jumbo is dead in the jungle. er again will he hoo-doo you,

er again will he hoo-doo you."

you."

155

In a rather

delicately as possible.

To the tune of "Hark, ten thousand harps and voices."

Dying down into
a penetrating,
terrified
whisper.