Leon Stacey Poet Rhyme

A Hundred Pounds of Cotton

Picked a hundred pounds of cotton
Five days a week
Picked a hundred pounds of cotton
In an old guano sack
Picked a hundred pounds of cotton
Till we heard glimmers speak
Picked a hundred pounds of cotton
To keep our leaning shack

Picked a hundred pounds of cotton
For fifteen dollars a week
Picked a hundred pounds of cotton
Got a dollar, Momma, the rest
Picked a hundred pounds of cotton
Feeling proud but made week
Picked a hundred pounds of cotton
Seemingly cursed, yet blest

Traded a hundred pounds of cotton
For a short work on earth
Traded a hundred pounds of cotton
For new mercies and grace
Traded a hundred pounds of cotton
To give my family mirth
Traded a hundred pounds of cotton
To run and win my race

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