#AmericanWriters #BlackWriters
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—
It’s such a Bore Being always Poor.
When you turn the corner And you run into yourself Then you know that you have turned All the corners that are left
2 and 2 are 4. 4 and 4 are 8. But what would happen If the last 4 was late? And how would it be
Tell all my mourners To mourn in red — Cause there ain’t no sense In my bein’ dead.
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
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 live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—
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 —
Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is… (America never was America to me.…
Here I sit With my shoes mismated. Lawdy—mercy! I’s frustrated!
When I get to be a composer I’m gonna write me some music abou… Daybreak in Alabama And I’m gonna put the purtiest so… Rising out of the ground like a sw…
I’m all alone in this world, she s… Ain’t got nobody to share my bed, Ain’t got nobody to hold my hand— The truth of the matter’s I ain’t got no man.
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…
Good morning, daddy! Ain’t you heard The boogie—woogie rumble Of a dream deferred? Listen closely:
