Enjoy:
As I walked along merrily one day
I saw something that made me want to stay
I came upon two men going at it like hen
Listening and laughing, I took out my pen
Here, my fellow reader, was the situation
The topic at hand was immigration
Orsi: immigrants from Italy have quite the history
Hopeful and terrified, coming for a better life
For Paradise on Earth, they came to New York City
But found out that the city of dreams was a city full of strife
Piri: huh?
Orsi: scentless flowers and tasteless food, even the air rots one’s teeth
Forgetting land and tongue can’t change skin, can’t hide what’s lurking beneath
They were here to make money; need quickly changed to greed
Did the bad American air plant this nasty seed?
Piri: seeds? What seeds?
Orsi: alienation versus Americanization
Xenophobia and hostility, fitting in and family
What was their role in this great nation—
Time to introduce the city to the culture of Italy
Piri: like spaghetti?
Orsi: Hail Madonna! Hail the Holy Virgin!
Hope, peace and Forgiver of Sin
Men were to the Madonna, devoted and faithful
So their love for their wives and Italy would remain strong and not dull
Piri: uh huh….
Orsi: come join the procession, women and children
Italians in America are no longer only men
Beg Her for relief; thank Her for your joys
An illness healed, a danger passed, a child’s new toys
Piri: no school?
Orsi: even after leaving Harlem, return every year
To see the Lady on her throne, hold Her near and dear
Children of parents dead
Fulfill their vows in their stead
Piri: pay their debts, you mean
Orsi: with zealous fervor, they clean the street
So that Madonna’s blessings may it meet
Rising up higher on the ladder’s rung
But always for the Lady praises are sung
Piri: first seeds, now ladders
Orsi: teaching the people was Vigorito
To live a man’s life, to school one must go
But when the American doctor can’t save a life
People turn to the Italian midwife
Piri: schools? Doctors? Stick with one topic
Orsi: let’s end this long and complex tale
Of immigrants who to America sail
With the festa of our Lady of 115th Street
Where the Domus rules and families meet
Piri: whoa, whoa buddy—tale’s far from done
Italians in Harlem ain’t the only ones
We come from Puerto Rico, land of milk and honey
Here to el-Barrio where it ain’t that sunny
Orsi: the correct term is ‘isn’t’
Piri: runnin’ after Pops till I’m feelin’ forlorn
But it really don’t matter cuz I’m the first-born
Playin’ happily in the dirty, stinkin’ gutter
Till dopey drank and died—kid was a nutter
Orsi: he drank gutter water?
Piri: Pops moved us to Italian block cuz my li’l bro died
Real bad idea cuz I nearly went blind
But now they know tha Piri got heart
Piri don’t run when the fight’s gonna start
Orsi: don’t we all have hearts
Piri: Poppa lost his job with the WPA
How’s we gonna live from day to day?
To the Home Relief Office me and Momma go,
Beggin’ and pleadin’, feelin’ real low
Orsi nods in understanding: tell me young Piri, do you go to school?
Piri: school?! Man you a fool
School in this convo is just not cool
Me: c’mon Piri, just let us know
If it’s hard to talk about, take it slow
Piri: wasn’t my fault—blame it on the lady
All I did was touch, she really went crazy
School ain’t my turf, so I took it to the street
Principal chasin’ me, like a dog after meat
Orsi: Pardon?
Piri: he’d have had my head for my behavior
Runnin’ like mad, I saw my savior
Wonderful Miss Washington made his rampage cease
God Bless Her, May she Rest In Peace
Me: she’s dead?
Piri: er, no
Me: then why’d you say—
Piri: you’re messin’ up the rhyme!
Me: oh, sorry
Piri: but enough about school
It make me drool
Lemme tell you bout that time I wanted new shoes
Man, nearly felt my neck going through that noose
Orsi: did you kill someone?
Piri: brush, spit, polish was the ritual of the shine
But it would take too long if I wanted shoes that were fine
So me and my buddy Louie and our pal Crip
Decided to make more than a shoe shiner’s tip
Orsi: I see, I think
Piri: it was all going good—we were on top
Till we nearly got caught—damn that cop!
Prayin’ like mad thay they wouldn’t squeal like rat
And that’s the end of that!
With that Piri walks away,
Leaving Orsi confused
“Read his book,” I say
and Orsi leaves bemused
So now dear reader, to end this fine tale
It just goes to show without fail
There’s always more than one point of view
Of a scholar, a gangster, and a rhyming maniac too.
Thank you
wowwwwww that was really good