The Mighty Three Poem by Marcus Mosiah Garvey

Three ancient Negroes gathered at the old Cross Roads,
An African, West Indian and American;
They talked of separation days of slavery,
And pledged ne'er more divided be in world of bravery.


'The tricks of olden times are ended now,' they said,
And they must show united front to one and all;
'No more will distance keep us down or ranks divide,'
'So help our God!' the three did swear and all decide.


A bloody slave of sire made in ignorance,
Is sure not binding now, as then, they all agreed:
To God above they looked, all three, in vision clear,
And made a vow to save the race and have no fear.


United stand the Negro man in deeds of love,
A common weal of race to urge, and then to gain;
No more the three shall be apart in actions great,
But, hand in hand, march on to glorious fate.


This is the way for you and me in conflicts drawn,
By men who dare our ranks divide with wanton rule:
Bless ye, be firm, be strong, and stand 'you mighty three;'
Press on, and look to God, till you are wholly free.