Landlord, landlord,
My roof has sprung a leak.
Don't you 'member I told you about
Way last week?
Landlord, landlord,
These steps is broken down.
When you come up
It's a wonder you don't fall down.
Ten Bucks you say I owe you?
Ten Bucks you say is due?
Well, that's Ten Bucks more'n I'l pay
Till you fix this house up new.
What?
You gonna get eviction orders?
You gonna cut off my heat?
You gonna take my furniture
Throw it in the street?
Um-huh!
You talking high and mighty.
Talk on-till you get through.
You ain't gonna be able to say a
If I land my fist on you.
Police!
Police!
Come and get this man!
He's trying to ruin the
And overturn the land!
Copper's whistle!
Patrol bell!
Arrest.
Precinct Station.
Iron cell.
Headlines in press:
AN
NS
NT
LD NO
GE
ES
RO 90
YS IN
TY
IL!
From
HE
ON
ES
ER, p. 101, 1957.
This poem by Langston Hughes grew out of conditions in New York City’s Harlem in the 1930’s. In graphic terms it describes the escalation of anger and frustration that tenants experienced trying to get landlords to make basic repairs.
It is structured like an old time blues song until the final verse where the rhythm changes.
Charley Noble
