#AmericanWriters
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,
Landlord, landlord, My roof has sprung a leak. Don’t you 'member I told you abou… Way last week? Landlord, landlord,
Love Is a ripe plum Growing on a purple tree. Taste it once And the spell of its enchantment
Tell all my mourners To mourn in red — Cause there ain’t no sense In my bein’ dead.
Let’s go see Old Abe Sitting in the marble and the moon… Sitting lonely in the marble and t… Quiet for ten thousand centuries,… Quiet for a million, million years…
Here I sit With my shoes mismated. Lawdy—mercy! I’s frustrated!
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
I worked for a woman, She wasn’t mean— But she had a twelve—room House to clean. Had to get breakfast,
Go home and write a page tonight. And let that page come out of you— Then, it will be true. I wonder if it’s that simple?
Being walkers with the dawn and mo… Walkers with the sun and morning, We are not afraid of night, Nor days of gloom, Nor darkness—
I went to the Gypsy’s. Gypsy settin’ all alone. I said, Tell me, Gypsy, When will my gal be home? Gypsy said, Silver,
Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.
Children, I come back today To tell you a story of the long da… That I had to climb, that I had t… In order that the race might live… Look at my face —dark as the night…
When Susanna Jones wears red her face is like an ancient cameo Turned brown by the ages. Come with a blast of trumphets, J… When Susanna Jones wears red
It was a long time ago. I have almost forgotten my dream. But it was there then, In front of me, Bright like a sun—