Thursday, November 29, 2012

The Cling Ting Café

My new friend , Whitey, led me astray!
He dragged my ass to the Cling Ting Café;

We’d met in a proper Kunming bar,
Drinking spiked tea from a samovar.

It didn’t take long ‘till we headed out
To some special place he’d heard about;

It was in the Walled City, about a mile away
Patrolled by MPs, both night and day.

But this was neither, being half past five
Sun still up, joints closed, not yet alive;

We got pointed in the right direction
By a young MP who knew this section.

“The Cling Ting is not yet open”, he said
“But go around the back by the wooden shed;

A cutie named Queenie will let you in,
“A pack of ciggies gets you rice wine or gin”

The place had a bar along one wall
Tables with phones, you wanna make a call

To one of the ladies you like as a mate
If that was Queenie, you’d have to wait.

But, when Whitey asked, she came right over
And Whitey felt he’d soon be in clover.

But Queenie said, while sitting on his lap
“I solly soljer, I tink I got some clap.”

I figured Whitey would send her away;
Maybe try somewhere else, another day;

But Whitey put out his arms as if to engulf her
And said, “Don’t worry kid, I’ll get you some sulfur!”

This was June, nineteen forty-four
I doubt if the Cling is around anymore

Nor is my best friend still alive;
A bad heart killed Whitey in ‘65.


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