With a silk umbrella and the handle of a broom, 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. 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 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 II. THEIR IRREPRESSIBLE HIGH SPIRITS Rather shrill 55 THEN I SAW THE CONGO, CREEPING THROUGH THE BLACK, Read exactly as in first section. The inlaid porches and casements shone And the black crowd laughed till their sides were sore A troupe of skull-faced witch-men came But the witch-men suddenly stilled the throng Just then from the doorway, as fat as shotes, And they pranced with their butterfly partners there, The cake-walk royalty then began To walk for a cake that was tall as a man While the witch-men laughed, with a sinister air, Or Mumbo-Jumbo, God of the Congo, Gods of the Congo, Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you. Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, boom, Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, boom, Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, 105 Slow philo- III. THE HOPE OF THEIR RELIGION good old negro in the slums of the town. 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, a Congo paradise, for babes at play, 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 |