#AmericanWriters
The night is beautiful, So the faces of my people. The stars are beautiful, So the eyes of my people. Beautiful, also, is the sun.
Oh, silver tree! Oh, shining rivers of the soul! In a Harlem cabaret Six long—headed jazzers play. A dancing girl whose eyes are bold
My old mule, He’s gota grin on his face. He’s been a mule so long He’s forgotten about his race. I’m like that old mule —
Clean the spittoons, boy. Detroit, Chicago, Atlantic City, Palm Beach.
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 was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. Since I come up North de
In places like Selma, Alabama, Kids say, In places like Chicago and New York...
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
I was so sick last night I Didn’t hardly know my mind. So sick last night I Didn’t know my mind. I drunk some bad licker that
She, In the dark, Found light Brighter than many ever see. She,
I went to the Gypsy’s. Gypsy settin’ all alone. I said, Tell me, Gypsy, When will my gal be home? Gypsy said, Silver,
How still, How strangely still The water is today, It is not good For water
I, too, sing America. I am the darker brother. They send me to eat in the kitchen When company comes, But I laugh,
How quiet It is in this sick room Where on the bed A silent woman lies between two lo… Life and Death,
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams