Don’t know why there no sun up in the sky, stormy weather.
Since my man and I ain’t together, keeps rainin all the time.
Life is time, the time. So weary all the time.
When he went away the blues walked in and met me.
I said:
Now will the poet sing,-
Their cries go thundering
Like blood and tears
Into the nation’s ears,
Like lightning dart
Into the nation’s heart.
Against disease and death and all things fell,
And war,
Their strophes... SCOTTSBORO, TOO, IS WORTH IT’S SONG by Countee Cullen.
