Bucket  Drummin’ on a Back Street

Beatin’ and a Drummin’,

Drummin’ and a Beatin’.

Beatin’ the five-gallon buckets.

Rappin’ the deep-water soul.

A kick and a snare, boom-bap tap.

Hip-hop beat to the bim bang bam.

16th and 32nds over and over, wham.

Closed hats, open hats on the offbeats.

Trappin’ the beat with a boom-bap tap.

Mixin’ and swayin’ an African lick

To the cornpone Southern hip-hop stick.

Rim, lift bucket, rim shot, bam.

Beatin’ flows from the spirits in the wrists

To the tips of the dowl-rod sticks.

Arrhythmic tourists

Scurry past,

Diverting their eyes

As if you don’t exist.

Music is food for your soul

But some coins for dinner,

Perhaps a gumbo bowl,

That’s good, too.