✍ Little Boy from Big Mamou (song lyrics) Oct 2022
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| Parc Sans Souci, Lafayette Louisiana |
© 2022, Leonard Earl Johnson / All Rights Reserved
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THE LITTLE BOY FROM
BIG MAMOU
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~ Fiction ~Roman à clef, cher
by Leonard Earl Johnson
by Leonard Earl Johnson
of Lafayette and New Orleans, Louisiana
© 2022, Leonard Earl Johnson, All Rights Reserved
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Baltazar asked The Rector for permission to read at the banquet where JFK's what-not-shelf rocking chair would be presented to the birthday Bishop.
The Rector granted permission, though he actually knew nothing of the fisherman's poetry other than a chapbook with his name on it sat on his own bookshelf next to a dusty copy of THE CONFESSIONS OF SAINT AUGUSTINE.
The forget-me-not rocking chair was gratefully received by The Bishop, who spoke briefly of that day in Dallas. The crowd listened in awe of the moment. Then Baltazar stood, opened his chap book, and commenced reading:
🧜♂️ 💀 🧜♂️
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THE BOY BEHIND THE ALTAR,
The Little Boy from Big Mamou
by Baltazar Beauregard
© 2022, Leonard Earl Johnson / All Rights Reserved
He was just a little boy from Big Mamou, and that's way out in Acadia. There a man with a long black limousine filled him up with amphetamine, and led him to the hot side of The Swamp.
He was wined, dined, and charming. His intention was alarming. So he say, 'au revoir, Acadia.' Like Jean Lafitte he roamed about till he came to New Orleans and he found out, the one you call 'mon cher' ain't your 'mon père'.
He was young, hung, and lanky, and he love hanky-panky. Every night opportunity would knock. And now that he's known at the Whitney Bank, he's goin' back home and genuflank to the one who done him wrong, the one who done him wrong, the one who done him wrong in Big Mamou!
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Then someone broke his heart on Bourbon Street, and he ups and leaves Louis-e-an. Like a lost Cajun he bum-and-roam, till an East Village slum become his home. And he lay New York for Louis-e-an.
He was young, hung, and lanky and he love hanky-panky. Every night opportunity would knock. And now that he's known in the finest clubs he's goin' back home and snub the studs, the ones who done him wrong, the ones who done him wrong, the ones who done him wrong in Big Mamou.
Well his landlord adored him and was like a papa toward him, till he learned what he earned alone at night. And now that he's known in saloons and bars, he's drivin' back south with six fancy cars, to the one who done him wrong, the one who done him wrong, the one who done me wrong in Big Mamou!
I mean the one who done me wrong, the one who done me wrong, the one who done me wrong in Big Mamou!
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When Baltazar finished the room held its breath. There was no murmur, no shuffle. Nothing stirred but the poet-fisherman stepping down from the microphone...
👀 😁 👀
The hall bulged with the nuancé of ecumenical philosophers. Christians mostly ~ but not all ~ speaking every French/English patois spoken in Louisiana, even those of the polyglot Archdiocese of New Orleans.
Tables glittered with candle flames and crystal stemware. The finest Cloth and best-dressed lay people circled the room.
L. A. Norma randomly asked passing celebrants, "Traditional or Republican Christian?"
The Bishop grew up in a French speaking household during the first years of Louisiana's French language reawakening. Time was the language of the French was outlawed in the schools of Louisiana. "Now you are given ribbons for it," The Bishop said.
"Fellow followers of the Crooked Staff," Norma said, leaning on the arm that actually held a Bishop's Crooked Staff. The term, 'Crooked Staff,' is a humorous reference to the hooked shape of a shepherd's staff, a kind of ceremonial walking stick often carried by Bishops and Archbishops symbolically herding their flock.
The crooked part is also a reference to the common use of the term, 'crook' and 'staff,' indicating dishonesty, as in the Bishop's crooked staff, of which cheeky Protestant children might sing in recess-ridicule of their Catholic friends.
Norma laughed seeing across the table the sparkling eyes of Baltazar, the fisherman poet. He was splendidly attired in a fine black tuxedo, and white fisherman boots adorned with colored jewels.
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| © Leonard Earl Johnson |
 If you wish to read any month's column go to www.LEJ.world anytime. They are posted on the first of each month and polished for the next few years.~ ~ ~ LEJ's Louisiana, Yours Truly in a Swamp is a monthly e-column @ www.LEJ.world, Hosted by GOOGLE BLOGGER, and historically at Les Amis de Marigny, New Orleans publication of the It is written by Leonard Earl Johnson of Lafayette and New Orleans, Louisiana .JPG) © 2022, Leonard Earl Johnson, All Rights Reserved |
posted by LEJ's Louisiana | 2:46 AM
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