One hundred years in a slave’s skin
then a hundred years more—
Picking up food fallen on the floor
before white folks walk all over it.
Sleeping on beds that are no more than planks,
Allowed to sing on Sunday only.
Oh, you see the black woman
in the role of the maid
with her man next to her,
his body bent out of shape—
After all that
it should come as no surprise:
They’re the ones
they’re the ones
who gave us
Son House and Charley Patton,
Howlin’ Wolf and Blind Lemon.
African blood is mighty red
on that pretty little cotton flower.
America was brand new—
What a fine democracy, Welcome!
Boats carrying away entire villages
after that endless journey
It’s all forever engraved in our collective memory:
each ivory tear
and each iron collar.
After all that
it should come as no surprise:
They’re the ones
they’re the ones
who gave us
Son House and Charley Patton,
Ma Rainey and Robert Johnson.
Always do your best to please the traders of ghosts:
they’re the ones who gave us
the woman being bought and the man being sold.
they’re the ones who gave us
Given the maximum sentence at birth.
they’re the ones who gave us
But still alive in who we are!
they’re the ones who gave us
This people banished from the rest of humanity,
they’re the ones who gave us
Longing for the blue of our former kingdoms.
they’re the ones who gave us
They’re the ones who gave us—it should come as no surprise
Son House and Charley Patton,
Ma Rainey and Robert Johnson,
Son House and Charley Patton...
Son House and Charley Patton,
Ma Rainey and Robert Johnson...