Uploaded January 2019 | Updated September 2026, 2 hours ago

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Bradley Van Deusen was an army poet and part of the New York City Greenwich Village scene of the 30's and 40's.

iment.com/maida/family/father/oldsoldiersdrums/p12-13-incident.htm

INCIDENT

Hey, Doc'! Pardon, Sir, I meant Major.
They say the Kid was hurt last night.
You know, my Bud', the battler?
Slim, blonde, puts out a fight?
I heard the Corpsmen talkin'
They said the Kid was bad.
Jesus, Sir! You'd tell a fella -
The Kid's all I ever had!
He's dead! Never knew what hit him?
A wreck? Why, Sir, the Major's wrong!
The Kid came in last evenin'
An' Gawd knows that ain't long!
An' just because my leg is broke
He wuz kiddin' me to death ...
To ... death ... my buddy's dead then ...
It kinda takes my breath.
Where is he, Doc'? The Post Morgue?
That little house of stone?
Get me outa here, Sir, I'm goin'
The Kid's in there alone!
Sure I know my leg is busted
But, Hell, Man, I can crawl!
I don't want nobody with me
I can guide along the wall!

Take that 'hypo' outa here, Sergeant!
Why ... Major ... that ain't fair ...
I ran with the Kid a week ago.
Had him shapin' pretty fair.
This goddam morphine gets me ...
Kid! Lay off that dame in red!
You can't mix dames and battlin'
An' ya can't win fights in bed!
Roll in-under that left a' his
Then pivot up an' hook!
Don't let'm box but fight him!
This guy fights by the book!

I'm gettin' punch drunk - damn this morphine -
It starts buzzin' in my head!
Hey, Kid! Kid! Why sparrin' pardner,
They told me you was dead!