#AmericanWriters
I got to leave this town. It’s a lonesome place. Got to leave this town cause It’s a lonesome place. A po’, po’ boy can’t
Well, son, I’ll tell you: Life for me ain’t been no crystal… It’s had tacks in it, And splinters, And boards torn up,
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…
Gather quickly Out of darkness All the songs you know And throw them at the sun Before they melt
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—
My name is Johnson— Madam Alberta K. The Madam stands for business. I’m smart that way. I had a
When Susanna Jones wears red her face is like an ancient cameo Turned brown by the ages. Come with a blast of trumphets, J… When Susanna Jones wears red
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…
That Justice is a blind goddess Is a thing to which we black are w… Her bandage hides two festering so… That once perhaps were eyes.
It would be nice In any case, To someday meet you Face to face Walking down
Down in the bass That steady beat Walking walking walking Like marching feet. Down in the bass
Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf—Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair says… new Waldorf—Astoria:
I live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—
To fling my arms wide In some place of the sun, To whirl and to dance Till the white day is done. Then rest at cool evening
Good morning, daddy! Ain’t you heard The boogie—woogie rumble Of a dream deferred? Listen closely: