#
"Mumbo-Jumbo is dead in the jungle.
Never again will he hoo-doo you.
Never again will he hoo-doo you."
Redeemed were the forests, the beasts and the men,
And only the vulture dared again
By the far, lone mountains of the moon
To cry, in the silence, the Congo tune: --
# Dying down into a penetrating, terrified whisper. #
"Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you,
Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you.
Mumbo . . . Jumbo . . . will . . . hoo-doo . . . you."
This poem, particularly the third section, was suggested by an allusion
in a sermon by my pastor, F. W. Burnham, to the heroic life and death
of Ray Eldred. Eldred was a missionary of the Disciples of Christ
who perished while swimming a treacherous branch of the Congo.
See "A Master Builder on the Congo", by Andrew F. Hensey,
published by Fleming H. Revell.
The Santa Fe Trail
(A Humoresque)
I asked the old Negro, "What is that bird that sings so well?"
He answered: "That is the Rachel-Jane." "Hasn't it another name,
lark, or thrush, or the like?" "No. Jus' Rachel-Jane."
I. In which a Racing Auto comes from the East
# To be sung delicately, to an improvised tune.
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