#Americans #Blacks
It’s such a Bore Being always Poor.
Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why:
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,
Goin’ down the road, Lawd, Goin’ down the road. Down the road, Lawd, Way, way down the road. Got to find somebody
The calm, Cool face of the river Asked me for a kiss.
been scared and battered. My hopes the wind done scattered. Snow has friz me, Sun has baked me, Looks like between 'em they done
I was so sick last night I Didn’t hardly know my mind. So sick last night I Didn’t know my mind. I drunk some bad licker that
I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
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
I went to the Gypsy’s. Gypsy settin’ all alone. I said, Tell me, Gypsy, When will my gal be home? Gypsy said, Silver,
When the shoe strings break On both your shoes And you’re in a hurry— That’s the blues. When you go to buy a candy bar
My old man’s a white old man And my old mother’s black. If ever I cursed my white old man I take my curses back. If ever I cursed my black old mot…
Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf—Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair says… new Waldorf—Astoria:
It would be nice In any case, To someday meet you Face to face Walking down
