Dat’ bastaad masta’
Creepin’ drunk to da quatahs’
When nighttime come
D’ole mammys say,
'While he havin’ his way'
“Letcho’ mind run t’peace, ”
But I ain’t got no such’ peaceable’ place.
Jus’ beddin’ wit’ d’hate I’hold …
Dat’ bastaad masta’
I feels like a brood sow
What he done to me
All dem yella’ babies
Drove my man t’crazy
Dat’ bastaad masta’
Sold my black babies
My Ma and my Pa
Damned me, to plant’ his fields
And reap’ his blood
So I planted dat’ bastaad’ masta’
In d’gotdam’ mud
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Write comment. Such a nice piece, Alto. Read my poem, Love and Iust. Thanks