| |
| ONE does such work as one will not, | |
| And well each knows the right; | |
| Though the white storm howls, or the sun is hot, | |
| The black must serve the white. | |
| And it’s, oh, for the white man’s softening flesh, | 5 |
| While the black man’s muscles grow! | |
| Well I know which grows the mightier, | |
| I know; full well I know. | |
| |
| The white man seeks the soft, fat place, | |
| And he moves and he works by rule. | 10 |
| Ingenious grows the humbler race | |
| In Oppression’s prodding school. | |
| And it’s, oh, for a white man gone to seed, | |
| While the Negro struggles so! | |
| And I know which race develops most, | 15 |
| I know; yes, well I know. | |
| |
| The white man rides in a palace car, | |
| And the Negro rides “Jim Crow.” | |
| To damn the other with bolt and bar, | |
| One creepeth so low; so low! | 20 |
| And it’s, oh, for a master’s nose in the mire, | |
| While the humbled hearts o’erflow! | |
| Well I know whose soul grows big at this, | |
| And whose grows small; I know! | |
| |
| The white man leases out his land, | 25 |
| And the Negro tills the same. | |
| One works; one loafs and takes command; | |
| But I know who wins the game! | |
| And it’s, oh, for the white man’s shrinking soil, | |
| As the black’s rich acres grow! | 30 |
| Well I know how the signs point out at last, | |
| I know; ah, well I know! | |
| |
| The white man votes for his color’s sake, | |
| While the black, for his is barred; | |
| (Though “ignorance” is the charge they make), | 35 |
| But the black man studies hard. | |
| And it’s, oh, for the white man’s sad neglect, | |
| For the power of his light let go! | |
| So, I know which man must win at last, | |
| I know! Ah, Friend, I know! | 40 |
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