YOUR bony head, Jazbo, O dock walloper,
Those grappling hooks, those wheelbarrow handlers,
The dome and the wings of you, nigger,
The red roof and the door of you,
I know where your songs came from.
I know why God listens to your, "Walk All Over God's Heaven."
I heard you shooting craps, "My baby's going to have a new dress."
I heard you in the cinders, "I'm going to live anyhow until I die."
I saw five of you with a can of beer on a summer night and I listened to the five of you
harmonizing six ways to sing, "Way Down Yonder in the Cornfield."
I went away asking where I come from.
It seems wrong that out of this bird,
Black, bold, a suggestion of dark
Places about it, there yet should come
Such rich music, as though the notes'
Ore were changed to a rare metal
At one touch of that bright bill.
You have heard it often, alone at your desk
In a green April, your mind drawn
Away from its work by sweet disturbance
Of the mild evening outside your room.
A slow singer, but loading each phrase
With history's overtones, love, joy
And grief learned by his dark tribe
In other orchards and passed on
Instinctively as they are now,
But fresh always with new tears.
The winds softly whisper,
Singing a gentle romantic tune,
As dusty pink roses ... bathed in dewdrops,
Leaving a pleasant fragrance,
When the petals sway and unfold,
Into the tender breeze,
'Neath the lucent moon,
And the sky sparkle like diamonds,
Twinkling from above ... with ease.
Overlooking a refine emerald blanket,
Surrounded by sprinkles of white smooth pebbles,
Beside a lovely exotic tree,
On this playful summers night,
And it seems quite special.
Towards the surface remain my concerns.
The sun will shine on all my problems.
Entering my mind in a state of stillness.
As powerful as that might be.
Will it set my fidgeting free.
It's time to leave that all behind.
Searching to find the wondrous grape vine.
To eat with the acknowledgment of peace and happiness.
The water is in harmony to the song of the whales.
To sink deep naturally without any fails.
I wish I could hug it even though it flows around me.
From the cosmos I must shine through my enlightened chi.
Lifted from all the negativity.
I've found what rescues and saves.
The voices travel with the wind and aids the singing waves.
there was a little mole a funny little thing
while digging underground he just love to sing
you could hear him singing when he began to toil
his funny little song coming through the soil
he was very cute with funny little feet
singing little songs to a funny beat
he would sing for hours as happy as can be
a lovely little chap a happy chap was he