#AmericanWriters
Democracy will not come Today, this year Nor ever Through compromise and fear. I have as much right
My old mule, He’s gota grin on his face. He’s been a mule so long He’s forgotten about his race. I’m like that old mule —
I sat there singing her Songs in the dark. She said; 'I do not understand The words’.
The census man, The day he came round, Wanted my name To put it down. I said, Johnson,
It would be nice In any case, To someday meet you Face to face Walking down
Tell all my mourners To mourn in red — Cause there ain’t no sense In my bein’ dead.
Well, son, I’ll tell you: Life for me ain’t been no crystal… It’s had tacks in it, And splinters, And boards torn up,
I am God— Without one friend, Alone in my purity World without end. Below me young lovers
I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
Goin’ down the road, Lawd, Goin’ down the road. Down the road, Lawd, Way, way down the road. Got to find somebody
I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh,
You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.
Landlord, landlord, My roof has sprung a leak. Don’t you 'member I told you abou… Way last week? Landlord, landlord,
I woke up this mornin’ ’Bout half-past three. All the womens in town Was gathered round me. Sweet gals was a-moanin’,