#AmericanWriters
I work all day, Said Simple John, Myself a house to buy. I work all day, Said Simple John,
Because my mouth Is wide with laughter And my throat Is deep with song, You do not think
In an envelope marked: PERSONAL God addressed me a letter. In an envelope marked: PERSONAL
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…
Where is the Jim Crow section On this merry—go—round, Mister, cause I want to ride? Down South where I come from White and colored
I worked for a woman, She wasn’t mean— But she had a twelve—room House to clean. Had to get breakfast,
It’s such a Bore Being always Poor.
Goin’ down the road, Lawd, Goin’ down the road. Down the road, Lawd, Way, way down the road. Got to find somebody
Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.
I woke up this mornin’ ’Bout half-past three. All the womens in town Was gathered round me. Sweet gals was a-moanin’,
I take my dreams and make of them… and a round fountain with a beauti… And a song with a broken heart and… Do you understand my dreams? Sometimes you say you do,
I will take you heart. I will take your soul out of your… As though I were God. I will not be satisfied With the touch of your hand
To fling my arms wide In some place of the sun, To whirl and to dance Till the white day is done. Then rest at cool evening
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—
I got to leave this town. It’s a lonesome place. Got to leave this town cause It’s a lonesome place. A po’, po’ boy can’t