The Blues
He done seen a lot, I sayHe done seen a lotMr. Jazzman plays the bluesHis potbelly flowing over his slacksHe done seen a lotOn his face five wrinklesOne, his mother was a Baptist schoolteacherShe taught stories about slaverySo men in stiff white collars came with papersShe was thrown out of the classroom forTeaching pride to the young black youth 2. no money he picked up his saxAnd played on the street corners For money to feed his six brothers and sisters,In a one room house pots collect water from ceilingHis mother died youngMother, found dead revolver to her headDepressionOppression, her fault a man from the government closed down the school,“Negro children should learn proper education,” He saidHer guilty conscience played, ”Death's Song.” 3.his older brotherFred had PolioLived his life thoughHe had three children and a wifeHe picked tobacco for twenty yearsAnd suddenly, he got sickDied, at thirty fiveHe had to be held to walkHe cane rests now beside the wall. 4. His best friend Joe was found dead.Hanging from a maple tree in just his drawersHe was twenty-three at the timeDeath slapped a mask over his faceHis eyes to the sideHis tongue stuck outStrange fruit on the treeThe rope burns were embedded in his sugar brown skinHis feet parallel to the groundYellow spot in front of his drawersThey tortured him,He had just came back from war proud to have served his country,He came decorated,“uppity”they said“keep him his place”they saidstrange fruit in a treehanging 5.Mr. Jazzman's wife had babyWeary and tiredThe infant died two months laterThe tiny body could no longer fightBlood infection that played in his bloodMr. Jazzman's somnolent spirit lost the lightHe no longer came homeHis wife left himHe done seen a lot, I sayHe done seen a lotHis cheeks fall off bone nowFrom his lines of worryGod bless the child that got his ownThat once had his ownHis sax lets out a sour tune of'Dem melancholy songs that play the blues~ Written November 24th, 2001 © on Nov 24 2001 08:40 AM PST 0 • 1
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"He done seen a lot, I sayHe done seen a lotMr. Jazzman plays the bluesHis potbelly flowing over his slacksHe done seen a lotOn his face five wrinklesOne, his mother was a Baptist schoolteacherShe taught stories about slaverySo men in stiff white collars came with papersShe was thrown out of the classroom forTeaching pride to the young black youth 2. no money he picked up his saxAnd played on the street corners For money to feed his six brothers and sisters,In a one room house pots collect water from ceilingHis mother died youngMother, found dead revolver to her headDepressionOppression, her fault a man from the government closed down the school,“Negro children should learn proper education,” He saidHer guilty conscience played, ”Death's Song.” 3.his older brotherFred had PolioLived his life thoughHe had three children and a wifeHe picked tobacco for twenty yearsAnd suddenly, he got sickDied, at thirty fiveHe had to be held to walkHe cane rests now beside the wall. 4. His best friend Joe was found dead.Hanging from a maple tree in just his drawersHe was twenty-three at the timeDeath slapped a mask over his faceHis eyes to the sideHis tongue stuck outStrange fruit on the treeThe rope burns were embedded in his sugar brown skinHis feet parallel to the groundYellow spot in front of his drawersThey tortured him,He had just came back from war proud to have served his country,He came decorated,“uppity”they said“keep him his place”they saidstrange fruit in a treehanging 5.Mr. Jazzman's wife had babyWeary and tiredThe infant died two months laterThe tiny body could no longer fightBlood infection that played in his bloodMr. Jazzman's somnolent spirit lost the lightHe no longer came homeHis wife left himHe done seen a lot, I sayHe done seen a lotHis cheeks fall off bone nowFrom his lines of worryGod bless the child that got his ownThat once had his ownHis sax lets out a sour tune of'Dem melancholy songs that play the blues~..."