Jazz Mama

Oh, sweet honey of sound! I have tasted your sweetness night after hot night for twenty-five years. How did I cast my spell? I enter the room from back of the band, singing wordlessly, softly. They have to strain to hear. I sway to the music, all curves and twists. Then I abruptly stop, but my voice is inside of them, they still hear me... Then for the umpteenth time the maestro praises my voice as sensual, sinuous, you know that talk. But what you want is more of me, all of me, and I cast my spell again singing BODY AND SOUL with body and soul. You know. They used to call me JAZZ HONEY! I could see it in their hot, smoky eyes. Oh, the bitter-sweet of memory. 'Jazz Honey, sit on my lap.' - 'Jazz Honey, marry me tonight! ' - 'Jazz Honey, kiss me, before my wife comes back.' But now, I'm just a Jazz Mama to these men. When I sing now, it's always the Blues. I can see into their minds the memories tossing back and forth, memories bumping into desires, and they are under my spell. 'Jazz Mama, sing just for me tonight, and make it Sweet Honey Jazz....'