#Americans #Blacks
Oh, silver tree! Oh, shining rivers of the soul! In a Harlem cabaret Six long—headed jazzers play. A dancing girl whose eyes are bold
I am God— Without one friend, Alone in my purity World without end. Below me young lovers
I play it cool I dig all jive. That's the reason I stay alive. My motto
Love Is a ripe plum Growing on a purple tree. Taste it once And the spell of its enchantment
When the old junk man Death Comes to gather up our bodies And toss them into the sack of obl… I wonder if he will find The corpse of a white multi—millio…
The census man, The day he came round, Wanted my name To put it down. I said, Johnson,
I sat there singing her Songs in the dark. She said; 'I do not understand The words’.
I know I am The Negro Problem Being wined and dined, Answering the usual questions That come to white mind
When a man starts out with nothing… When a man starts out with his han… Empty, but clean, When a man starts to build a world… He starts first with himself
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 went down to the river, I set down on the bank. I tried to think but couldn’t, So I jumped in and sank. I came up once and hollered!
Because my mouth Is wide with laughter And my throat Is deep with song, You do not think
I went to the Gypsy’s. Gypsy settin’ all alone. I said, Tell me, Gypsy, When will my gal be home? Gypsy said, Silver,
The night is beautiful, So the faces of my people. The stars are beautiful, So the eyes of my people. Beautiful, also, is the sun.
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—
