#AmericanWriters
When the shoe strings break On both your shoes And you’re in a hurry— That’s the blues. When you go to buy a candy bar
It’s such a Bore Being always Poor.
You sicken me with lies, With truthful lies. And with your pious faces. And your wide, out—stretched, mock—welcome, Christian hands.
Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why:
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
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…
He glides so swiftly Back into the grass— Gives me the courtesy of road To let me pass, That I am half ashamed
You and your whole race. Look down upon the town in which y… And be ashamed. Look down upon white folks And upon yourselves
Landlord, landlord, My roof has sprung a leak. Don’t you 'member I told you abou… Way last week? Landlord, landlord,
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
It would be nice In any case, To someday meet you Face to face Walking down
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.
My name is Johnson— Madam Alberta K. The Madam stands for business. I’m smart that way. I had a
Here I sit With my shoes mismated. Lawdy—mercy! I’s frustrated!
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,
