From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur

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…

Love Is a ripe plum Growing on a purple tree. Taste it once And the spell of its enchantment

You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.

Tell all my mourners To mourn in red — Cause there ain’t no sense In my bein’ dead.

Here I sit With my shoes mismated. Lawdy—mercy! I’s frustrated!

Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—

'Me an’ ma baby’s Got two mo’ ways, Two mo’ ways to do de Charleston!… Da, da, Da, da, da!