Written by: Ginger Amee Terdue

Shh! Here comes the Civilian general
My black-master to a black-master
On whom my boney back bent
On a twenty four hour daily chore.
Planting happiness on Masters vegetation mind
Reaping sorrows in my vegetable mind
Commands he always bark not shout
Where be this boy, this orphan, this ill-fed scoundrel?
Me and my orphaned enslaved soul, he referred to us
You wallow in the fat brewies of my bounties
Centuries of your worked pennies cant buy
And licked up crumbs off my silvered table
Yet will not rise to see my works glister
Though pennies and cents be wasted as wages?
Me think and my battered orphaned soul
Deep down my battered breast aloud
Else Master is of Femme-fatales offspring
When his tobacco temper cunningly flares
In a venomous rage of hurricane
Threatening my dual starving slumbering soul
Whom fear shadowed in my weak ribs
Master always come snorting, swearing
Under clenched, stenched breath
At one weary, boney, pitiable carcass
Peacefully snoring his sorrows away
Only Master wouldn't take that labor break
Else, my crumbs be forfeited by half
Rest comes to clothe my dual naked soul
Only under white scorching sun
The only shelter Master ceded to me.