Right in the dead of a very cold winter
When the tired slave's soul is ash gray
And the cotton plantation becomes whiter ,
Begins a poor slave's hard working day .
In Winter when the master makes a call
This was every slave's worse nightmare
It was time for his hard whips to fall
insurmountable pains he couldn't bare .
Snowballs are piled outside like cotton
His Wounds hurts but as usual he's told
Stay strong brother Kunta, just hold on
Just Stay calm till the barn is closed .
This is the mid of a cold bitter winter
And the crow of a **** heralds a sad day
A slave's prayer to God was a sad whisper
He needed strength to get pass this day.
follow me on twitter@ivanclappers
Jan 3, 2018
Jan 3, 2018 at 7:47 PM UTC
Right in the dead of a very cold winter
When the tired slave's soul is ash gray
And the cotton plantation becomes whiter ,
Begins a poor slave's hard working day .
In Winter when the master makes a call
This was every slave's worse nightmare
It was time for his hard whips to fall
insurmountable pains he couldn't bare .
Snowballs are piled outside like cotton
His Wounds hurts but as usual he's told
Stay strong brother Kunta, just hold on
Just Stay calm till the barn is closed .
This is the mid of a cold bitter winter
And the crow of a **** heralds a sad day
A slave's prayer to God was a sad whisper
He needed strength to get pass this day.
follow me on twitter@ivanclappers
The soul is not freed when the body is in captivity..
Request permission to use this poem