Master sold the new baby last week.
Said, "Go have another next week".
Marriage came in the cotton rows.
A holy isle, with shadows of the ox-bow.
Only lasted till the cotton sale.
Man went off on top a cotton bale.
Last heard, sold down in Orleans.
Master said, "house be made real clean".
Chicken bone in the pocket to keep.
Dreams of that man, in my mind reap.
No learning at all, get smart and leave.
Hounds found the runner, bell colar, torn sleeve.
New slaves arrived from the other shore.
Just silent looks, like broken down doors.
That one sell to the pimpers, fine whore.
Grand-Ma, keeper of the kitchen floor.
Kids crying, MOMS, on the other shore.
That baby, red suit, by the brass of the door.
" MY LOVE< THE CARRIAGE WAITS< FOR OUR TOUR".
from 8HOP.com - POEWHIT
JESUS SAVES