Well you wake up in the morning, Hear the ding dong ring.
You go marchin’ to the table, you see the same damn thing.
Well it’s on one table, knife and fork and pan.
To be a Negro on a day like this Demands forgiveness.
Bruised with blow on blow,
Betrayed, like him whose woe dimmed eyes gave bliss,
Still must one succor... AT THE CLOSED GATE OF JUSTICE by James David Corrothers.
