(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892 / New York / United States)

I Ain'T Goin' Down Mama

I ain’t goin’ down mama
I ain’t goin’ down
You can lock me up in your Coke can house
‘Till I’m busting at the seams
You can whoop me like a dog
While I listen to your schemes
You can take away my pride
You can pull me off the team
You can step on me ‘til I squirt blood
But you ain’t taking my dreams

I ain’t goin’ down mama
I ain’t goin’ down
You can cook me in a vat of grease
You can drag me through the town
I can’t do nuthin’ to appease
You still think I’m lowdown
If it helps your troubled mind to ease
Then I will be your clown
But your jack, shack, flock, can’t hold me back
Through your pin me to the rack
For one day soon, I will rise
I’ll mobilize before your eyes
Your schemes and extremes I’ll neutralize
Cause I ain’t goin’ down mama
I ain’t goin’ down


(It’s from the book “comfort” by Carolee Dean.)

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Comments (1)

Walt. Wow I enjoyed your poem