The poor white man had no slaves;
could hardly wipe his posterior,
keep his wife and feed the children.
The poor white man started no war
he just followed the upper echelons.
He had to hate the black man.
How else he's going to fix the roof
and mend the fence?
He says "man I don't really hate you
is just the money I'm looking on.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem