***The Roots Is The Toots- The Music That Got Them Through The Great Depression And World War II…

 

 

…yeah, always getting a guy with the big talk, a flash wad (what did they used to call it, oh yeah, a Missouri bankroll, a twenty up front and singletons in back-yeah-“show me”), some fancy latest cut suit (on credit with some downtown tailor now dunning for payment, or else), although a small room-war shortages he said, just temporary he said that time she rolled over on the bed and wound up flat on her face. Oh brother, she should have fled then but she was well let’s call it underdressed at the time.

She could have put up with the no dough, maybe given him the dough to get that jerk tailor off his back, he sure looked good in it all pressed up, and would not have complained of that fall on the floor (he was well, well, let’s put it this way he knew how make a girl happy in bed) if he only would not live in that two- cent dream world of his about his ship coming in. Not a ship like other guys, like her husband who shipped out just after she ran into Mr. Big Talk at Jimmy’s when she was feeling blue and needed a quick drink. Some sunken treasure Spanish doubloons ship, some pipe dream ship.         

Yeah, she always drew the talkers (the takers and the fakers too)- that hubby Europe-bound no better than him (and well not as good in bed as him if you want to know) or she might have stayed home at night and remained true-blue. Always drew the little walkers with that little walk, a guy who promised the moon, the stars, all of god’s heavens, if you would just give it up. Yeah, give it up for a cold floor face down in some cheap rooming-just temporary of course. Saying maybe you could walk the streets to raise, what did he call it, capital, yes, capital. Then glad-handing back to your door looking for two dollars to pay the taxi fare, smelling, smelling lots of smells, smells of low-rent whisky meaning he is busted (in the chips nothing but high-shelf bonded blends), smelling of some Bull Durham roll-your-own meaning real broke (and meaning once again his nasty pitch to raise capital, raise it off of her back), smelling of reefer meaning long gone broke (wouldn’t score any for her though when she was blue and needed a lift- said it would make her a tramp, yeah, like he hadn’t already), and smelling of some other woman’s sweat and faded sandalwood perfume. Yeah, yeah get the hell out here you two-timing so and so…