Mingus howling, his bass rumbling in their faces, 
Yeah! Yeah, oh yeah! The insistent wailing, barking growl.
Their chains beaten loose by the savage blues, racing. 

The piano Christmas made to make Charlie’s pulsing praises
Screamed of saints, sins, and women—making preachers scowl.
And Mingus howling, his bass rumbling in their faces. 

The food frying at noon, the sun shining happy on their faces—
They pray Gabriel play his weathered brassy horn to howl,
Their chains beaten loose by the savage blues, racing.  

Don’t play in the threadbare winter without a partner for dancing,  
This music is company, this music a night sentinel while cats yowl.
Charles Mingus is howling, his bass rumbling in their faces.

They strike up his music to keep watch over their embraces,  
Hopping a saxophone plays ahhhhh, a bright golden vowel,
Their chains beaten loose by the savage blues, racing.

The dancers tear away, a flurry of silk, the black chantilly
Deep in the memories of  night and saxophone growl,
And Charles Mingus howling, his bass rumbling in their faces, 
Their chains beaten loose by the savage blues, racing.