Clean the spittoons, boy. <br />Detroit, <br />Chicago, <br />Atlantic City, <br />Palm Beach. <br />Clean the spittoons. <br />The steam in hotel kitchens, <br />And the smoke in hotel lobbies, <br />And the slime in hotel spittoons: <br />Part of my life. <br />Hey, boy! <br />A nickel, <br />A dime, <br />A dollar, <br />Two dollars a day. <br />Hey, boy! <br />A nickel, <br />A dime, <br />A dollar, <br />Two dollars <br />Buy shoes for the baby. <br />House rent to pay. <br />Gin on Saturday, <br />Church on Sunday. <br />My God! <br />Babies and gin and church <br />And women and Sunday <br />All mixed with dimes and <br />Dollars and clean spittoons <br />And house rent to pay. <br />Hey, boy! <br />A bright bowl of brass is beautiful to the Lord. <br />Bright polished brass like the cymbals <br />Of King David’s dancers, <br />Like the wine cups of Solomon. <br />Hey, boy! <br />A clean spittoon on the altar of the Lord. <br />A clean bright spittoon all newly polished— <br />At least I can offer that. <br />Com’mere, boy!<br /><br />Langston Hughes<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/brass-spittoons/
