The Jazz Muse

She Gives the Poets the Celebrated Olympian Jazzberry

SAMUEL HOFFENSTEIN

THE following jazzcttes are to be played before a curtain of jazzing cherubim on a background of Doheny blue. Or better still, to avoid offending anybody's prejudices with regard to the gravity of cherubim, a school of the famous red-eyed Persian turtles, which turn somersaults and swim criss-cross, might be substituted. The peculiar motion of the turtles might be indicated by the artist at the bottom of the curtain, by means of a symbolic oil-burning tea-pot in red, white and blue.

I. The "To-Be-Or-Not-To-Be" Blues

(Hamlet Soliloquizes in a New Tempo)

TROMBONE (with derby): What am I gonna do?

ORCHESTRA: What am I gonna do?

CORNET (muted) and SAXAPHONE:

Baby, I'm in awful trouble,

Baby, I'm just seein' double— ORCHESTRA: Don't know what to do;

Lord, I'm feelin' blue!

(The trap-drummer sobs violently; this is a personal and not a machine-made sob, although he may rub sand-paper to maintain a professional atmosphere.)

ORCHESTRA: Won't you come and help me if you can?

TROMBONE (through megaphone):

Won't — you — come — and — help—your—Hamlet-man?—

I'm askin' you,

What'll I do?

SAXAPHONE: Baby, dear, I think I'm gonna cry—

(The leader of the orchestra sits on the floor and cries; his men hiss him.)

I don't know whether I oughta live or die!

ORCHESTRA: Life is full of trouble,

Life is full of fears,

Life is just a bubble That breaks in sighs and tears— (Trap-drummer blows soap-bubbles.)

But, oh, that river Makes me shiver!—

Death may be the same kind o' flivver!

Baby, tell me, what am I gonna do?

Baby, I'm inter — rog — a — tin' you!

CORNET (muted): You-o-o-o!

TROMBONE (with derby): and SOPRANO SAXAPHONE: I'm so full of arrows,

I'm so full of slings,

Heart-aches, shocks and sorrows, Whips and scorns and stings. TRAPS: Hear 'em whizzin'

Hear 'em sizzlin'!

Bzz! bzz! bzz! goes the busy bee;— Go bite Hamlet; keep away from me!

ORCHESTRA: Everybody takes me for a sap—

I think I'm gonna shuffle off the map.

TRAPS: Shuffle, shuffle,

Shuffle along,

When you're lost in the scuffle And your luck goes wrong!

(Indicates shuffle, via sand-paper; or the French horn, who hasn't been working much so far, can stand up and shuffle.)

SAXAPHONE: Baby, dear, I think I'm gonna pass—

Flip a coin for bodkin, gun or gas. ORCHESTRA: Head, come bodkin,

Tail, come gas;—

I'm sick o' bearin' fardels And I think I'm gonna pass.

BASS OBOE: Don't you see it there?

Don't you see it?

ORCHESTRA (with alarums and excursions): Where?

BASS OBOE: Over there,

In the air!

ORCHESTRA: It's a ghost!

BASS OBOE: It's a bear!

TRAPS: He'll get you if he can;—

It's the Bogey-man!

TROMBONE (on the hoof):

He'll get you by and by!

He'll get you when you die; ORCHESTRA: He'll get you underground! CORNET (muted): I guess I'll stick around.

I ain't gonna die;

I'll stick around and sigh. ORCHESTRA: Oh, that sleep o' death

Makes you hold your breath!

(Orchestra illustrates, exhaling like a volcano.)

CORNET: Gimme my arrows,

Trouble and toil;

Gimme my fardels And my mortal coil;

I'll stick around And play the sap,

If that's what you get When you shuffle off the map! ORCHESTRA: Head, here's your bodkin!

Tail, here's your gun!

If the Bogey-man gels me,

He'll do it in the sun!

TRAPS: And he'll do it on the run!

CORNET: TO be, to be,

To be or not to be—

That's the cross-word puzzle That's a-razzin' me!

ORCHESTRA: Head, you stav.

And tail, you won't,

But the Bogey-man will get you,

If you don't, don't, don't!

(Desperate cacophony, while the orchestra debates the question, and conscience does make blow-hards of them all.)

II. The Rosary

(I'LL String You Some Pearls if You Let Me Hang Around And You Promise that You Won't String Me.)

Time means nothing to me— (Sixty seconds in a minute;

Can't you see there's nothing in it? Lend it, spend it,

Give it away,

You'll have as much tomorrow as you squandered yesterday—)

But baby, listen, listen to me,

Rosy Rosie, Ro—o—sary,

I've thrown away my money on a lot of girls, But the hours J spent on you, dear, was like puttin' 'em in pearls—

Every hour a pearl;

Oh, you precious girl!

Every kind o' weather;

String 'em all together,

Texas to Toronto,

Count 'em if you want to;

Throw 'em out the window; throw 'em on the floor;

Every hour's a pearl; lots of time for more;— Tell your mamma she's my mother-o'-pearl, And I'll be the pearl-fisher to her precious little girl—

Oh, you little oyster,

Shake your little curl—

Shake your pretty head, dear,

And out comes a pearl;

String 'em all together,

Count 'em every one,

And you've got a pretty necklace To glisten in the sun:—

Oh, my baby, listen to me,

Oh, my Rosie, Ro—o—sary,

It's a very wise guy that looks where he spends, And makes the idle hours pay him fancy dividends—

Count 'em in the parlour,

Count 'em on the stairs,

String 'em all together While you're sayin' your prayers:—

Listen, listen, don't you hear that sound?

I'm a-comin' a-runnin' on the one, two, three, I'll string you some pearls, if you let me hang around,

And you promise that you won't string me, Rosary.

III. "Gather Ye Rosebuds While Ye May"

(GO and Get Your Rosebuds While the Gettin' is Good.)

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may:

They may be here today,

But they won't be here tomorrow;

They may be here Sunday,

But they won't be here Monday;

They may be here Tuesday,

But they won't be here Wednesday;

They may be here Thursday,

But they won't be here Friday;

Pick 'em up now, so you won't have to borrow.

Look at that sun,

He'll be setting soon;

And you can't gather rosebuds By the light o' the moon,

By the light o' the bright O' the silvery-white,

Little queen o' the night.

Pretty moon!

(For they won't let you walk in the park,

And you can't see the rosebuds in the dark.)

Please, little girl, don't hesitate;

Be bold; when you're old It'll be Loo late.

Grab 'em now, grab 'em now—

Pick the pretty rosebuds for that lilywhite brow.

Don't wait till you're older,

And you get the cold shoulder:—

Hurry! Hurry!

Hurry up and marry;

Get yourself a man,'get yourself a man;

And gather all the rosebuds that vou can! That's the girl.

(Continued on page 106)

Continued from page 56)

IV. Mr. Longfellow's "Psalm of Life"

(PUT Away Those Blues; Pack Your Bag for Heaven;

We're All Gonna Leave on (he Seven-Come-Eleven.)

A CAMP-MEETING-JAZZ ORCHESTRA: Put away that hammer;

Stop that yowl;

No Katzenjammer,

And the muffler on the growl!

FRENCH HORN:

Sic 'im, Tiger, if you hear 'im howl!

UKELELES AND BANJOS:

Blang! Blang!

Bling! Bling!

Go aboul your business And you'll hear the angels sing!

While the ukes and banjos are playing, the rest of the orchestra rises and sings this in camp-meeting fashion. It might be appropriate to suspend a Vachel Lindsay puppet from a wire and have it do a hanged man's jig.)

ORCHESTRA: Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, Acorns fall and hinges rust, But I got a heart and I got a soul,

And I may go to pieces, but I'm cornin' out whole. UKES AND BANJOS: Put away those blues;

Pack your bag for Heaven; We're all gonna leave On the seven-come-eleven!

Orchestra, same business as before)

ORCHESTRA: Tick, tock! Tick, tock!

It makes me creepy to listen to the clock,

But I got a soul, and I got a heart,

And I may be short on time, but I'm long on art.

UKES AND BANJOS: Blang! Blang!

Live or die;

Don't be an ape—

Be a regular guy!

ORCHESTRA. Watch your step and watch your sail;

Think o' the guy who'll follow your trail—

Whether you're fast or whether you're slow,

Plant your feet so the footprints show!

UKES AND BANJOS:

Blang! Blang!

Never lie down!

Grab your pick and shovel Till the hearse corner roun'! Entire Orchestra rises and sings with appropriate business:

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, Acorns fall and hinges rust, But I got a heart and I got a soul,

And I may go to pieces, but I'm cornin' out whole

V. Crossing the Bar

(THE "Going-Away" Blues; for Trombone, Cornet, Saxophone, Oboe, and Piano.)

Look! it's gettin' dark!

Where? There!

See it in the air!

Don't you hear it? Hark!

Yes? Well?

There's the evening-bell!

The sun's gone down and the evening-star Has got a fine shine on the foamy bar:— Good—bye!

Don't cry!

Mamma, papa, please don't sigh!

I've got to go on a long, long track;

I've got to blow, and I'm never cornin' back;—

Hear that moanin',

Hear that bar;

Rock it, sunset!

Hush it, evening-star!

I'm goin' away across the boundless sea; I' m goin' today, but don't you cry for me;— Ding, dong! ding, dong!

Hear—that—bell!

So—long, so—long,

But never say farewell! So-long, but not good-bye! Mamma, don't you cry!— I've got to go across the salty foam, ButI know, the Captain's takin' me home— Don't you understand?—

To the Promised Land! Hush, there, bar!

Shine, there, star!

Ring, there, bell!

So-long, but not farewell! Don't you stand and stare! Look me in the eye!

I'll meet you over there! So-long, but not good-bye! Ding—dong!

So—long!