Trepidation at the Wall (New Orleans, '47)

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Sam Dierberger

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Feeling trepidation at the wall
High and mighty and true
My pathway's stalled
Suede shoes on the bayou
An old jazzman is talking concise
A french quarter jubilee is blowing
He's wise, but he don't give me a shred of advice
Says telling ain't as good as showing

And his old black face is laughing
And he's smoking on the trombone
The street is busting and it's interacting
But I feel like I should go it alone

Feeling trepidation at the wall
God damn, your claws got me good
I wrote you a poem on the bathroom stall
Just to prove that I still could
Maybe one of these nightclub boys will read it
Maybe he can do it up right
But I'll be halfway out of town by the time you see it
Write me a duet for tonight

And my mentally ill travel companion
Is singing to a Louis tune
Well, we're both alone, we're both abandoned
By the promise of a midnight moon

Feeling trepidation at the wall
I touch it and I wail
I laugh and cry and fall
New Orleans police haul me to jail
I'll write another piece for good measure
On an old parchment, wine for ink
Where my cellmates are real pleasure
Says he can't hear himself think

I look through the bars and see the ocean
And I think maybe I belong with you
But tomorrow I'll get some great notion
That I ought to be alone on the bayou

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