Time’s A Goin’ On
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child
A long way from home.
I sees a chile come walking ‘round the street corna
Look like she bout knee high to a grasshopper
She’s totin’ that stomach ‘round like it’s a regular load
For a girl her age, ‘bout thirteen years old.
We don’t know if she choose to give what she had before it could be took,
Or maybe it was took before she knew she could choose to give it away.
Perhaps she thought she could buy her freedom with what little she had.
It’s all gone away now, ‘cept for the baby face…that stayed.
Will the baby’s baby be wanderin’ around lookin’ for home soon?
Runnin’ ‘round in clothes too small and saggin drawls?
Askin’ strangers with a bewildered stare,
“Anybody seen my kin folk ‘round ‘hea?”
Sometimes I feel like freedom is near
Sometimes I feel like freedom is near
Sometimes I feel like freedom is near
But we’re so far away.
Bet y’all thought I was talkin’ bout them slavery times huh?
Massa sat up in the house takin’ from the chillen what he felt he purchased.
Some of ‘em offerin’ it to him like it was a way up and out.
Some had it snatched away cuz they wasn’t willin’ to feed the cycle.
I wish those were the times I spoke about today.
Naw chile, this one I saw at the bus stop just yesterday
Hand on her achin’ back, body swole in the motherly way.
Yes sir, that ole machine is still crankin’ out slave bound chillen.
It’s just we done took over the production and labor ourselves.
Can’t blame all this hea today on Massa n dem, no ma’am.
Generations later and we still got chillen lookin for they mama.
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child.
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child.
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child.
A long way from home.
Copyright © 2010 Natasha Guy
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