Jelly Roll Morton
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Honky Tonk Blues
Well, the girls’d start. They’d say, “Play me something there,
boy, play me some blues.”
So they’d start playin’ in this way: Honky Tonk
Blues
I could sit right here, think a thousand miles away,
Sit
right here, think a thousand miles away,
Since I had the blues this bad,
cannot remember the day.
Tell me, baby, what you got on your mind,
Tell me, baby,
what you got on your mind,
I’m eating here and drinkin’, havin’ a lovely
time.
Let me be your wiggler, till your wobbler comes,
Let me be
your wiggler, till your wobbler comes,
You tell your wobbler, what your
wiggler done.
I never believe in havin’ one woman at a time,
I never
believe in havin’ one woman at a time,
I always have six, seven, eight or
nine.
She said, “Babe, oh, baby,
Babe, oh, baby,
You bound to
set your sweet papa cra . . . crazy.”
Sometimes they’d have good lookin’ . . . good lookin’ women of
all kinds.
Beautiful women, some was ugly, very ugly. Some looked like they
had lips . . .
lips looked like bumpers on a boxcar.
I’m tellin’ you they had all kind of ‘em dressed up.
Rags
. . . rags looked like ribbons on some of ‘em.
Some of ‘em with big guns in
their bosoms.
It was the law in New Orleans that anybody could carry a gun
if they wanted — almost.
‘Course it was just about a ten-dollar fine, er,
didn’t make very much difference.
And if they found you ten dollars . . .
why, your sentence would be thirty days in jail.
And possibly they’d put you
in the market to clean up the market in the mornin’.
And most of the
prisoners would always run away.
King Porter Stomp
“King Porter” was the first stomp, or the first tune with the
name stomp, wrote in the United States.
You must pardon me for clearing my
throat, ‘cause I’ve gotta do it occasionally.
Of course, I’ll tell you the
fact about it, I don’t know what the name stomp mean,
myself. It really
wasn’t any meaning, only that people would stamp their feet, and I
decided
that the name stomp would be fitted for it.
Of course, this tune . . . I was inspired by the name from a
very dear friend of mine,
and a marvellous pianist, now in the cold, cold
ground — a gentleman from Florida,
an educated gentleman with a wonderful
musical education, far much better than mine.
Er, this gentleman’s name was
Mr. King — Porter King.
Time in Mobile
Of course, I wrote this tune, er, while I was in Alabama about
the year of nineteen-five,
when I was about, er, twenty years old. I was
considered very good amongst my friends —
that is, so far as the writing
period. And I’ve always had a kind of a little inkling to write a tune at most
any place that I would ever land.
Of course, we had King Porter around there — that is, I mean,
Porter King — the man that “King Porter Stomp”
was named after. He was
considered a very good piano player. And of course, we had, er, King —
I
disremember his name — I think his name’s Charlie King, another piano player
around there.
Baby Grice was another one, that was supposed to be good.
Where was this?
Er, that was all in Mobile. Baby Grice was, was from
Pensacola, Florida.
Then we had another one around that was supposed to be
very good from Florida, also.
His name was Frazier Davis. And Frank Rachel
was supposed to be the tops, when it came down to around Georgia.
But
somehow or another, most all those boys kinda felt that I had, er, little
composing ideas, and always tried to,
er, that is, encourage me to play some
numbers. That is, er, write a number, I mean. So that’s why I wrote “Alabama
Bound.”
Let’s hear you play it on the piano.
What you wanna me to do?
Bang it away on the piano.
Alabama Bound
That’s the way I’d play it for the girls, who’d do the high kicks.
Said, “My, my, play that thing, boy.”
And I’d say, “Well, certainly do it, little old girl.”
That’s just the way they used to act down in Mobile in those
days, around
St. Louis and Warren, part of the Famous Corner.
I never
will ever forget, after I beat some guys playing pool, if it wasn’t for
one
of my piano playing friends, you’d never heard this record because the
guy
was gonna knife me right in the back, I’m tellin’ you. He had a knife right on
me.
He said that I only used the piano for a decoy, which he was right.
And, of course, er, he had it, had added to his mind that I
was kind of nice looking. Imagine that, huh?
Well, I said . . .
Of course, he wasn’t such a good-looking fellow his-self.
He had some awful rubber-looking lips, I’m telling you.
Yes indeed. He was kinda jealous of me — I suppose he was, anyhow.
But I said, “Alabama bound . . . ound,
Yes, Alabama bound,”
One of them good-looking gals told me,
“Baby, come on and leave this town.”
I got put in jail,
I got put in jail,
There wasn’t no
one in town,
Wouldn’t go my bail.
They had a sweet, sweet gal,
They had a sweet, sweet gal,
She got stuck on me,
And took me for her pal.
copyright ©
László Zoltán 2012
e-mail: Literatura.hu