America never was America to me And yet I swear this oath - America will be!

When poems stop talking about the moon and begin to mention poverty, trade unions, color, color lines and colonies, somebody tells the police.

Pleasured equally In seeking as in finding, Each detail minding, Old Walt went seeking And finding.

Summer was made to give you a taste of what hell is like. Winter was made for landladies to charge high rents and keep cold radiators and make a fortune off of poor tenants.

I've been scared and battered. My hopes the wind done scattered. Snow has friz me, Sun has baked me, Looks like between 'em they done Tried to make me Stop laughin', stop lovin', stop livin'-- But I don't care! I'm still here!

Folks, I'm telling you, birthing is hard and dying is mean- so get yourself a little loving in between.

Cheap little rhymes A cheap little tune Are sometimes as dangerous As a sliver of the moon.