[@3La Chanson du petit hypertrophique@1] It is from a heart sickness She is dead, the doctor says, Tra-la-leer! Poor mother dear, And that I'll go below To play bye-bye with her, I hear my heartbeat go: My mother calls me near. I am laughed at in the streets For my incongruous hands La-lu-lid! Of a drunken kid. Ah God, every step I go I choke, I rock with fear. I hear my heartbeat go: My mother calls me near. So then through the fields I go To sob to the sunsets low, La-ri-rame! It's a silly game. But the sun seems, I don't know, Like a heart that is rippling clear. I hear my heartbeat go: My mother calls me near. Ah, if little Gen'vieve took For my bursting heart one look, Pi-lou-less! Ah, yes! I am yellow and sad, I know. She is rosy, gay, and dear. I hear my heartbeat go: My mother calls me near. No, all the world's all bad, All but the heart the sunsets had, Tra-la-leer! And mother dear, And I must go down there soon To play bye-bye with her. My heart beats on, beats on . . . Is it, Mother, you I hear? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEVOURER OF NATIONS by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET IF IT WERE NOT FOR YOU by HAYDEN CARRUTH LA NOCHE TRISTE by ROBERT FROST POSSUM SONG (A WARNING) by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON BEAUTY THAT IS NEVER OLD by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON |