A Brief Journey Through Black History

Once I was scourged by the task masters' horse whips; consigning me for two centuries to servitude. I had my roots forever erased by forced trips to worlds unknown, where contemptuous attitude to my skin colour sure relegated me to the background of an odious racial caste system in the occident governed by hate. The cold snow covered climes of the west I see, with cotton fields revived, whilst blacks tormented strive for freedom from slavery's merciless back breaking yoke. With red scars on weary backs, they fight to survive the chains and fetters the abolitionists broke, having their sweat and blood water the cotton fields which bring bumper harvests to their task masters' guilds.