I had never been to a Mardi Gras celebration until I moved to New Orleans. What I learned living there, is that for the locals, it’s a great opportunity for family activities, far away from the tourism debauchery in the Quarter. I was ‘inspired’ one year to write this Mardi Gras poem, which will resonate with locals more than tourists. You still have nearly two weeks of Carnival season left for this year. Eat a muffaletta. If you can’t make it, put it on your bucket list! In the meantime, many of the biggest parades will be streamed on NOLA’s WDSU TV.
The Night Before Mardi Gras
Twas the night before Mardi Gras, and all through the burb,
Denizens were in place to see the parades, even lining the curb;
The beads were hung from the floats with care,
In anticipation of the throngs that would soon be there;
The children were nestled all snug in the car,
Dreaming of doubloons tossed from afar;
Mamma in her toga, and me in my mask,
I was all tuckered out from my bead buying task.
When out in the street there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my perch to see what was the matter.
Away to the neutral ground I flew like flash,
Tripped over the Landreau sign and fell face down in the trash.
The sun was just rising on the St. Charles line
Giving the impression parade day would be fine.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But the homeowner in his robe, his shouting so crass,
Saying, ”Hey, you buddy, get the hell off my grass!
A curmudgeonly old man, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment he was a tourist, he acted like such a dick,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called me some name;
It was obvious to me, he didn’t understand the game.
I looked around before leaving, to see what was the matter
But no I hadn’t forgotten anything, Not even my ladder.
I gathered my things, and got ready to view
The amazing display that would be put on by the Krewe.
I was ready as ready, me, Mr. Jimmy Crackcorn
I even had fresh double A’s, to use in my bullhorn.
I had borrowed a kid from some neighbor named Jim
So I could point to the toddler and say, “Hey the throws are for him!”
We worked all night on the “We’re from…” signs
Many places listed, the more exotic the better
After seeing all those, will they guess we’re from Kenner?
Continuing my mental tick list of things, forgetting the old coot,
Yep, I had my umbrella and shrimp nets, to help catch the loot.
I was stuffed with King cake, the tasty treats screamed “eat us”
I’d eat a lot more, if the toy didn’t look like a fetus.
The middles are not plain, but now stuffed with a filling
Since McKensies went bankrupt, small bakers make a killing.
I heard the music, the parade was near
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
Floats so lovely, adorned in things so bold
And trimmed of course in green, purple, and gold.
“I can’t get enough!” I thought, so I recounted them all
“Now, Zulu! now, Rex! Now, Endymion and Proteus!
To the end of St. Charles! to the top of Canal!
Then fade away! fade away! fade away all!”
“Damn I’m thirsty,” I thought, as I took a swig of my booze
“I hope I don’t have to pee before I see all of the Krewes!”
And then he appeared, the King of the Day,
He laughed and he chortled, and got ready to play.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Reached in his sack, then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, skyward went the throws!
The beads, candy and toys all flew like rain,
Me and ma were so drunk, we was feelin’ no pain.
The kids were getting trampled, ordinarily a horror
But not today cause someone nearby was surely a lawyer!
The crowds were noisy, their hearts were a thumpin’,
As they cried in unison, “Hey Mister, throw me sumpin!”
mardi gras 2015