Blue Skies Poem by Bill Simmons

Congregations, segregation
Slaves working on plantations
Me oh my, no blue skies
For a man, this not a life

A tall thin man, a stove top hat
I don't know, will see about that
I'm letting you know, you got to let go
A man is man, we all got souls

Congregations, segregation
A war broke out, southern plantation
Many they died, many mammas' cried
But for the first time, blue skies

Congregations, complications
Although man free within a nation
Still, he could not vote
Yet in war, a gun he tote

A preacher who came to be
Cried still, we are not free
We die beside you, can you not see
We are men, we too bleed

Two brothers who walked in life
Ruled a nation with all their might
No complications, this great nation
One day declared is all mens rights

Congregations, A great nation
No more complications
Within a nation, we made it right
All men free, beneath blue skies

A tall thin man, a stove top hat
A preacher, what do you think of that
And two brothers, and all they died
But once they lived, made it right.

Copyright 2009 Bill Simmons
aka BillWilliamStar@aol.com