Fredrick Douglas

The Whipping of my body, tattered Will never leave my soul a’battered I will one day ascend these fields And see this country for what it yields Not to slave, but to citizen To the brave, who peril this denizen With long and curling tendrils of hate While we are left, to dangle as bait So that prejudice’s thirst may be quenched So that this country’s heart may not be wrenched And picked like the cotton, and torn apart by gin But healed and mended from this dubious sin That travels miles and jumps o’er canyon That sneaks up to man and robs him of companion His freedom, for which all are endowed But for a period, only the selected are allowed To enjoy this life, while We toil To wield the knife, while We boil In these fields of hate, and of servitude With sweat filled body, and implements so crude But do not rise up my brother Not with spear or saber in hand Because with their whip they uncovered This slavery of which we understand Become all that you can, in this life so grand And become the better man Use your voices silenced by clattered chain Use your minds though sheltered by nettled pain Sing the song, unsung, of exodus Pray to the God who will one day deliver us From this prison of open air So that this race can again repair From this use of oppression so ignorant So that this low hum can become the ascended descant Join we, oh brother and sister of He And look up to Him and see Though we lay shackled in misery Though you feel alone, we are one We are many