Poem: "The Bindweed Blues"

[ysabetwordsmith]

This poem came out of yesterday's Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired and sponsored by minor_architect, who directed my attention to High John the Conqueror, a piece of African-American folklore. The rambling pattern of rhyme and rhythm is typical of many blues songs, as High John has appeared in this type of music before. I think this would sound good with some saxophone and harmonica.

The Bindweed Blues

Out of Africa I came -
You folk remember my name,
Little John the conqueroo.
Tell you what I’m gonna do,
I’ll leave you folk this root.
Just rub it, and be free.

High John get the boy his girl,
Conker bring the gambler luck,
Bindweed choke your enemy -
Rub that old root, and be free.

I got to go back home,
Back to Africa now.
I beat those slavers, though,
I beat ‘em like a drum -
And I can show you how.
Dig up that root and come.

High John get the boy his girl,
Conker bring the gambler luck,
Bindweed choke your enemy -
Rub that old root, and be free.

Take a shovel to that vine,
See it twist and twine.
Dry that root a spell
Then make your mojo well.
Rub it and summon me -
High John come to help you.

High John get the boy his girl,
Conker bring the gambler luck,
Bindweed choke your enemy -
Rub that old root, and be free.

Take it to the courthouse
And to the voting booth.
You can change that old world
They left you, rag and bone -
High John in your pocket
Will make the world your own.

High John get the boy his girl,
Conker bring the gambler luck,
Bindweed choke your enemy -
Rub that old root, and be free.

Bind the world to your will,
Bend it like a bow.
My power’s good still.
The Man will never know.
Bindweed’s stronger than rope,
Longer than time itself.

High John get the boy his girl,
Conker bring the gambler luck,
Bindweed choke your enemy -
Rub that old root, and be free.