#AmericanWriters
Remember The days of bondage— And remembering— Do not stand still. Go to the highest hill
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
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—
Love Is a ripe plum Growing on a purple tree. Taste it once And the spell of its enchantment
Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why:
I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!
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 would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head w… Let the rain sing you a lullaby. The rain makes still pools on the… The rain makes running pools in th…
I went to the Gypsy’s. Gypsy settin’ all alone. I said, Tell me, Gypsy, When will my gal be home? Gypsy said, Silver,
Landlord, landlord, My roof has sprung a leak. Don’t you 'member I told you abou… Way last week? Landlord, landlord,
The census man, The day he came round, Wanted my name To put it down. I said, Johnson,
That Justice is a blind goddess Is a thing to which we black are w… Her bandage hides two festering so… That once perhaps were eyes.
Good morning, daddy! Ain’t you heard The boogie—woogie rumble Of a dream deferred? Listen closely: