Solemn sweet pipes of de o'gan
Heaven's music I've hyeahd play,
But I'll tell you somefin' truly
Certain ez is Judgement Day:
Angels present at de service
Ev'ry Sunday fo'd dey wings,
Fo'd dey wings an' listen quiet
When Malindy sings.
Frost is so good.
Cummings is so good.
Dunbar is so good.
Field is so good.
God, am I
My Favorites And Me
I walk the city, the city clean
Where the sun is brighter on this side,
I keep my head straight no to be seen,
Though all my guilt can I cannot hide.
When the dove sings below me I can hear,
When the child suffers I do understand,
Where my conscience bundles up its fear
Before the child does raise her hand.
I carry no hope or miracle for the child
But I probably should spare the change,
To leave her in this city wild,
Would a dollar or pennies ease her pain?
With head straight forward I continue a march,
Pockets jingle past the innocent poor,
Walking past my burning heart,
I wonder if Heaven for her will open a door.
No need to need to be greedy.
Give to the needy.
— The End —