And riddles posed in acres where your house must be,
Running all this scared times, rushing on
Now the race, is to the
wagon.  Miles and back come
Far the principle is one  moral
Of this story,  
Power
The chains bound tightly
Around the,neck throttling
Paid  to the corner where her box on a rocking chair sits
A white porch daring
Her last and her future to ring out every time,that she and Oppressed
Are suddenly,the future free