The Genius of Jazz

by John D. Evans

The child of those moans on the field Where the sweat poured down Acres of victims in pain Babe of the spiritual First born of blues It sped up and we Started to dance And play with it Have fun with it Smoke out and Dance all night From the cats Who refused To record hits Fearing theft To those who Invent today I can hear it In every run When I sing In every beat Syncopated In every rap Every rhyme Gospel song Note held on The rules are followed And they are gone

The Genius of Jazz by John D. Evans

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