Part 15 (2/2)

Kaint defy it, kaint deny it, Kaze it jes won't be denied; Its a mos' pursistin' stubbern sortah thin'; Anti Tox' doan neutrolize it; Doctahs fail to a.n.a.lyze it; So I yiel's (dough I despise it) To dat res'less, wretchit fevah evah Sprin'.

DE DRUM MAJAH

He's struttin' sho ernuff, Wearin' a lady's m.u.f.f En' ways erpon his head, Red coat ob reddest red, Purtty white satin ves', Gole braid ercross de ches'; Goo'ness! he cuts a stunt, Prancin' out dar in frunt, Leadin' his ban'.

Wen dat ah whistle blows, Each man behine him knows 'Zacklee whut he mus' do; You bet! he dues it, too.

W'en dat bra.s.s stick he twirls, Ole maids an' lub-sick gurls Looks on wid longin' eyes, Dey simpley idolize Dat han'sum man.

Sweet fife an' piccalo, Bofe warblin' sof an' lo'

Slide ho'n an' saxophones, Jazz syncopated tones, Snare drum an' lead cornet, Alto an' clarinet, Las', but not least, dar c.u.m Cymbals an' big ba.s.s drum-- O! whut a ban'!

Cose, we all undahstan'

Each piece he'ps maik de ban', But dey all mus' be led, Sum one mus' be de head: No doubt, de centipede Has all de laigs he need, But take erway de head, Po' centipede am dead; So am de ban'.

Fenton Johnson

CHILDREN OF THE SUN

We are children of the sun, Rising sun!

Weaving Southern destiny, Waiting for the mighty hour When our s.h.i.+loh shall appear With the flaming sword of right, With the steel of brotherhood, And emboss in crimson die Liberty! Fraternity!

We are the star-dust folk, Striving folk!

Sorrow songs have lulled to rest; Seething pa.s.sions wrought through wrongs, Led us where the moon rays dip In the night of dull despair, Showed us where the star gleams s.h.i.+ne, And the mystic symbols glow-- Liberty! Fraternity!

We have come through cloud and mist, Mighty men!

Dusk has kissed our sleep-born eyes, Reared for us a mystic throne In the splendor of the skies, That shall always be for us, Children of the Nazarene, Children who shall ever sing Liberty! Fraternity!

THE NEW DAY

From a vision red with war I awoke and saw the Prince of Peace hovering over No Man's Land.

Loud the whistles blew and the thunder of cannon was drowned by the happy shouting of the people.

From the Sinai that faces Armageddon I heard this chant from the throats of white-robed angels:

Blow your trumpets, little children!

From the East and from the West, From the cities in the valley, From G.o.d's dwelling on the mountain, Blow your blast that Peace might know She is Queen of G.o.d's great army.

With the crying blood of millions We have written deep her name In the Book of all the Ages; With the lilies in the valley, With the roses by the Mersey, With the golden flower of Jersey We have crowned her smooth young temples.

Where her footsteps cease to falter Golden grain will greet the morning, Where her chariot descends Shall be broken down the altars Of the G.o.ds of dark disturbance.

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