#AmericanWriters
He glides so swiftly Back into the grass— Gives me the courtesy of road To let me pass, That I am half ashamed
It would be nice In any case, To someday meet you Face to face Walking down
Love Is a ripe plum Growing on a purple tree. Taste it once And the spell of its enchantment
Down in the bass That steady beat Walking walking walking Like marching feet. Down in the bass
Only dumb guys fight. If I wasn’t dumb I wouldn’t be fightin’. I could make six dollars a day On the docks
'Me an’ ma baby’s Got two mo’ ways, Two mo’ ways to do de Charleston!… Da, da, Da, da, da!
My name is Johnson— Madam Alberta K. The Madam stands for business. I’m smart that way. I had a
God in His infinite wisdom Did not make me very wise— So when my actions are stupid They hardly take God by surprise
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
Big Boy came Carrying a mermaid On his shoulders And the mermaid Had her tail
How still, How strangely still The water is today, It is not good For water
I went to the Gypsy’s. Gypsy settin’ all alone. I said, Tell me, Gypsy, When will my gal be home? Gypsy said, Silver,
Oh, silver tree! Oh, shining rivers of the soul! In a Harlem cabaret Six long—headed jazzers play. A dancing girl whose eyes are bold
When I get to be a composer I’m gonna write me some music abou… Daybreak in Alabama And I’m gonna put the purtiest so… Rising out of the ground like a sw…
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,