#AmericanWriters
Big Boy came Carrying a mermaid On his shoulders And the mermaid Had her tail
I play it cool I dig all jive. That's the reason I stay alive. My motto
Fine living . . . a la carte? Come to the Waldorf—Astoria! LISTEN HUNGRY ONES! Look! See what Vanity Fair says… new Waldorf—Astoria:
Let’s go see Old Abe Sitting in the marble and the moon… Sitting lonely in the marble and t… Quiet for ten thousand centuries,… Quiet for a million, million years…
Clean the spittoons, boy. Detroit, Chicago, Atlantic City, Palm Beach.
It would be nice In any case, To someday meet you Face to face Walking down
It’s such a Bore Being always Poor.
I know I am The Negro Problem Being wined and dined, Answering the usual questions That come to white mind
2 and 2 are 4. 4 and 4 are 8. But what would happen If the last 4 was late? And how would it be
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay—
Where is the Jim Crow section On this merry—go—round, Mister, cause I want to ride? Down South where I come from White and colored
I went to the Gypsy’s. Gypsy settin’ all alone. I said, Tell me, Gypsy, When will my gal be home? Gypsy said, Silver,
Down in the bass That steady beat Walking walking walking Like marching feet. Down in the bass
Remember The days of bondage— And remembering— Do not stand still. Go to the highest hill