LYRICS
Josh White
Freedom Road
written by: Langston Hughes
Hand me my gun, let the bugle blow loud
I’m on my way with my head up proud
One objective I’ve got in view
Is to keep ahold of freedom for me and you
That’s why I’m marching, yes, I’m marching
Marching down Freedom’s Road
Ain’t nobody gonna stop me, nobody gonna keep me
From marching down Freedom’s Road
It ought to be plain as the nose on your face
There’s room in this land for every race
Some folks think that freedom just ain’t right
Those are the very people I want to fight . . .
United we stand, divided we fall
Let’s make this land safe for one and all
I’ve got a message and you know it’s right
Black and white together, unite and fight!
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Jesus Gonna Make Up My Dying Bed
Now in the time of dying
I don't want nobody to moan
All I want my friends to do
Come and fold my dying arms
Whoa Whoa well so I can die easy
Whoa Whoa well so I can die easy
Whoa Whoa well so I can die easy
Jesus gonna make up my dying bed
Meet me Jesus, meet me
Won't you meet me in the middle of the air
And if these wings should fail me Lord
Won't you meet me with another pair
Whoa whoa well won't you meet me Jesus
Whoa whoa well won't you meet me Jesus
Whoa whoa well won't you meet me Jesus
Jesus gonna make up my dying bed
I'm goin' on down to the river
Stick my sword up in the sand
Gonna shout my trouble's over Lord
I've done made it to the Promised Land
Whoa whoa well I've done crossed over
Whoa whoa well I've done crossed over
Whoa whoa well I've done crossed over
Jesus gonna make up my dying bed
Ever since I been acquainted with Jesus
We haven't been a minute apart
He placed a receiver in my hands
True religion in my heart
Whoa whoa well I can ring up my Jesus
Whoa whoa well I can ring up my Jesus
Whoa whoa well I can ring up Jesus
Jesus gonna make up my dying bed
Goin' on down to the river
Stick my sword up in the sand
Gonna shout my trouble's over
I've done made it to the Promised Land
Whoa whoa well I've done crossed over
Whoa whoa well I've done crossed over
Whoa whoa Jesus gonna make up my dying bed
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Little Brother Blues
Says, I shop on little brother, Lord, I got little brother by my side.
Says, I shop on little brother ooh, got him by my side.
When I find that thieving rascal, I swear I'm going to cut his low down hide.
That's what you think he can carve, wait to he see my little brother strut his stuff.
But you thinks he can carve, ooh, ooh oh, oh, oh.
When I get through cutting that man, the good Lord will know he had enough.
You mess with my woman, I'm going to tell you what I'll do.
You mess with my woman, ooh, tell you what I'll do.
Says, I'll shoot you with my pistol, I swear I'll cut you with my little brother too.
When you mess with my woman, make peace with God or the devil one.
When you mess with my woman, ooh, ooh oh, oh, oh.
Going to shoot you if you stand still, going to cut your nappy head off if you run.
Me and my brother, stop our fighting we know we Chicago bound.
Going to stop our fighting, ooh, oh Chicago bound.
Says we massacred this city and we bound for another town.
Mm, mm...
Me and little brother bid you all, fare you well to thee,
Says, we finished our job and we just as happy as we can be.
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Nobody knows you when you're down and out
Once I lived the life of a millionaire
Spending my money, with never a care
Takin' all my friends out for a good time
Drinkin' high-priced liquor, champagne and wine;
Then I began to fall so low;
Didn't have a friend, and noplace to go
If I ever get my hands on a dollar again
I'm gonna squeeze it, until the eagle grins, cause
Nobody knows you when you're down and out.
In your pocket, not one penny
And your friends -- you find you haven't any.
But soon as you get back on your feet again
Everybody wants to be your long-lost friend
It's mighty strange, without a doubt
Nobody knows you when you're down and out.
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One Meatball
The little man walked up and down
To find an eating place in town
He read the menu through and through
To see what 15 cents could do
One meat ball
One meat ball
He could afford but one meat ball
He told the waiter near at hand
The simple dinner he had planned
The guests were startled one and all
To hear the waiter loudly call
One meat ball Everbody
One meat ball
Hey this here gent wants one meat ball
You know, the liitle man fet ill at ease
he said some bread sir If you please
The waiter hollered down the hall
You gets no bread with one meat ball
One meat ball
One meat ball
Well, you gets no bread with one meat ball
The little man felt very bad
One meat ball was all he had
And in his dreams he hears that call
You gets no bread with one meat ball
One meat ball and no spaghetti
One meat ball
You gets no bread with one meat ball
Let's try it one more time, Now
One meat ball
One meat ball
That one was gooey
You gets no bread with one meat ball
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Pigmeat And Whiskey Blues
I woke up this mornin', snake crawlin' in my hand
I woke up this mornin', snake crawlin' in my hand
He was crawlin' out that whiskey bottle, talkin' just like a natural man
Ah whiskey oh whiskey, why do you treat me so?
Ah whiskey oh whiskey, why do you treat me so?
If I ever get sober one more time, ain't gonna get drunk no more
I got drunk last night folks, talkin' all out my head
Drunk last night, talkin' all out my head
It wouldn't have been so bad, but my baby heard every word I said
I was talkin' about that woman, live down across the street
Talkin' about that woman, live down across the street
I used to like her love, oh that hard pigmeat can't be beat
I got drunk and give 'r all my money, pigmeat was better than all the gold
Drunk and give her my money, pigmeat was just as good as gold
I ain't gon' drink no more liquor, doggone my whiskey-drinkin' soul
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Prodigal Son
I broke my mother's heart, Lord when I runned away
I broke my mother's heart, Lord when I runned away
She said he's a hard-headed child, I know you is gone astray
My mother said son oh son, way you carryin' on is a low down dirty sin
My mother said son, way you carryin' on is a low down sin
You done run away and left me, but you comin' back home again
Had to pawn my shoes and clothes, sleep out in the park every night
Pawned my shoes and clothes, sleep in the park each and every night
I done laid around and caught T.B., I'm drawed up just like a piece of trite
I'm coming home mother, please don't cry when you see me
I'm coming home mother, when you see me don't you cry
I was a hard-headed boy, now your son's coming home to die
Ooh mother, oh mother, remember I'm your son
Cryin' mother, oh mother, remember that I'm your child
Mama please forgive me, all the things that I have done
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The Free and Equal Blues
written by: Josh White
I went down to that St. James Infirmary, and I saw some plasma there,
I ups and asks the doctor man, "Say was the donor dark or fair?"
The doctor laughed a great big laugh, and he puffed it right in my face,
He said, "A molecule is a molecule, son, and the damn thing has no race."
And that was news, yes that was news,
That was very, very, very special news.
'Cause ever since that day we’ve had those free and equal blues.
"You mean you heard that doc declare
That the plasma in that test tube there could be
White man, black man, yellow man, red?"
"That’s just what that doctor said."
The doc put down his doctor book and gave me a very scientific look
And he spoke out plain and clear and rational,
He said, "Metabolism is international."
Chorus
Then the doc rigged up his microscope with some Berlin blue blood,
And, by gosh, it was the same as Chun King, Quebechef, Chattanooga, Timbuktoo blood
Why, those men who think they’re noble
Don’t even know that the corpuscle is global
Trying to disunite us with their racial supremacy,
And flying in the face of old man chemistry,
Taking all the facts and trying to twist ëem,
But you can’t overthrow the circulatory system.
Chorus
So I stayed at that St. James Infirmary.
(I couldn’t leave that place, it was too interesting)
But I said to the doctor, "Give me some more of that scientific talk talk," and he did:
He said, "Melt yourself down into a crucible
Pour yourself out into a test tube and what have you got?
Thirty-five hundred cubic feet of gas,
The same for the upper and lower class."
Well, I let that pass . . .
"Carbon, 22 pounds, 10 ounces"
"You mean that goes for princes, dukeses and countses?"
"Whatever you are, that’s what the amounts is:
Carbon, 22 pounds, 10 ounces; iron, 57 grains."
Not enough to keep a man in chains.
"50 ounces of phosophorus, that’s whether you’re poor or prosperous."
"Say buddy, can you spare a match?"
"Sugar, 60 ordinary lumps, free and equal rations for all nations.
Then you take 20 teaspoons of sodium chloride (that’s salt), and you add 38
quarts of H2O (that’s water), mix two ounces of lime, a pinch of chloride of
potash, a drop of magnesium, a bit of sulfur, and a soupÁon of hydrochloric
acid, and you stir it all up, and what are you?"
"You’re a walking drugstore."
"It’s an international, metabolistic cartel."
And that was news, yes that was news,
So listen, you African and Indian and Mexican, Mongolian, Tyrolean and Tartar,
The doctor’s right behind the Atlantic Charter.
The doc’s behind the new brotherhood of man,
As prescribed at San Francisco and Yalta, Dumbarton Oaks, and at Potsdam:
Every man, everywhere is the same, when he’s got his skin off.
And that’s news, yes that’s news,
That’s the free and equal blues!
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Trouble
written by: Josh White
Well, I always been in trouble, ‘cause I’m a black-skinned man.
Said I hit a white man, [and they] locked me in the can
They took me to the stockade, wouldn’t give me no trial
The judge said, "You black boy, forty years on the hard rock pile."
Trouble, trouble, sure won’t make me stay,
Trouble, trouble, jail break due someday.
Wearin’ cold iron shackles from my head down to my knee
And that mean old keeper, he’s all time kickin’ me.
I went up to the walker and the head boss too
Said, "You big white folks, please see what you can do."
Sheriff winked at the policeman, said, "I won’t forget you nohow,
You better come back and see me again, boy, about 40 years from now."
Went back to the walker, he looked at me and said,
"Don’t you worry about 40, ‘cause in five years you’ll be dead."
Trouble, trouble, makes me weep and moan
Trouble, trouble, every since I was born.
Trouble, trouble, sure won’t make me stay,
Trouble, trouble, jail break due someday.
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Uncle Sam says
written by: Josh White / Cuney
Airplanes flying 'cross the land and sea,
Everybody flying but a Negro like me.
Uncle Sam says, "Your place is on the ground,
When I fly my airplanes, don’t want no Negro 'round."
The same thing for the Navy, when ships go to sea,
All they got is a mess boy’s job for me.
Uncle Sam says, "Keep on your apron, son,
You know I ain’t gonna let you shoot my big Navy gun."
Got my long government letter, my time to go,
When I got to the Army found the same old Jim Crow.
Uncle Sam says, "Two camps for black and white,"
But when trouble starts, we’ll all be in that same big fight.
If you ask me, I think democracy is fine,
I mean democracy without the color line.
Uncle Sam says, "We’ll live the American way,"
Let’s get together and kill Jim Crow today.
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