Rain
Newman Levy
On the isle of Pago Pago, land of palm trees, rice and sago,
Where the Chinaman and Dago dwell with natives dusky hued,
Lived a dissolute and shady, bold adventuress named Sadie,
Sadie Thompson was the lady, and the life she lived was lewd.
She had practised her profession in our insular possession,
Which, to make a frank confession, people call the Philippines.
There she'd made a tidy profit till the clergy, hearing of it,
Made her life as hot as Tophet, driving her to other scenes.
So this impudent virago hied herself to Pago Pago
Where the Chinaman and Dago to her cottage often came.
Trade was lucrative and merry, till one day the local ferry
Brought a noble missionary, Rev'rend Davidson by name.
Stern, austere and apostolic, life was no amusing frolic.
Braving fevers, colds and colic, he had come with prayers and hymns,
Most intolerant of wowsers, to those primitive carousers
Bearing chaste and moral trousers to encase their nether limbs.
In her quaint exotic bower, 'mid a never-ending shower,
Sadie Thompson, by the hour, entertained the local trade.
Every night brought more and more men, soldiers, natives, clerks and store-men,
Sailors, gallant man-of-war men, while her gay victrola played.
"Ha!" exclaimed the irate pastor, "straight you're headed for disaster.
I'll convince you who's the master, shameless woman of the street
"Listen, Rev.," said Sadie tartly, pardon me for punning smartly
"Though I get your meaning-partly - still, alas, a girl must eat."
"Girl," he cried in indignation, "choose at once between salvation
And immediate deportation from this charming tropic glade.
Like a devastating plague, 0 Scarlet Dame of Pago Pago,
You're as welcome as lumbago, plying here your brazen trade."
Sadie said, "Though I'm no scoffer, that's a lousy choice you proffer,
Still I must accept your offer though my pride has been attacked.
Come on, Rev., and let us kill a flask or two of sarsaparilla
Here in my delightful villa while I watch you do your act."
Let us veil the tragic sequel, for a pious man but weak will
Find, alas, that he's unequal to a lady's potent charms.
So his long suppressed libido, sharp as steel of famed Toledo,
Spurning prayers and hymns and credo, found surcease in Sadie's arms.
There beside the waters tidal, urged by impulse suicidal,
Lay, next day, the shattered idol, cleansed at last of sin and taint.
Here's the moral: Though a preacher fail to make a fallen creature
Pure and saintly as her teacher, she, perhaps, can make a saint.
It has a nice rhyme. I enjoyed it. But would Somerset Maugham?
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