Bradley Kincaid, “Liza Up in the Simmon Tree,” 1928
Kincaid hailed from Kentucky and created this glorious conflation (that’s a mash-up to you youths). He took “Liza Jane” and “Possum up a ‘Simmon Tree,” both traditional songs, and joined the stories and lyrics, and in the process gave the world one of its greatest bits of lyrical play:
Her head is like a coffee pot
Her nose is like the spout
Her mouth is like an old fireplace
With the ashes all raked out
I can listen to this endlessly—the transition from Liza’s depiction standing in the door with her shoes and stockings in her hand to this bizarre Cubist portrait. Cheeks like cherries, cherries like a rose, and yet nothing is really like anything else.
Originally published 10 March 2009. In honor of the post on Smith’s Anthology. Also in honor of Sunday’s post on Dino Valente’s “Birdses,” a song with similar characteristics, perverting the senses and making a collage of odd juxtapositions.
