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Freedom Ain't Another Word for Nothin Left to Lose
And as I go forth on the next boxcar
The blues I have is greater than the star
That shines in the north sky
The one that shines so no more may die
So follow the old drinking gourd
Because because the old man swore
The way to freedom it shall show
To leave your plow to leave your rake and hoe
To cross over Jordan and to go
Way down to and over to Jericho
To the north to Cleveland
To that great Canadian Land
Down over and up and around
Find their way watch the hound
Use the rivers to get around
And try to make It all the way
Stay in the safe house all the day
The drinking gourd will tell us the way
Let us swing down and hop a ride
Let us sing and sway in time
Let us leave our farm and leave our fields
Freedom is how we deal
Every man shall be
Free to go and free to leave
Apartheid in our land shall be no more
As shall be the company store
Or be oppressed by wicked chains
Be interned impoverished be a slave
Be discriminated against
Run now break the fence,
Of oppression of fighting of hate
Because all men and women can be great
To help there land all be free
Great god almighty lead freedom ring
Let freedom ring here and there
Here and there and everywhere
From the poorest town to the rich city’s
From all north and down even in Mississippi
Let freedom ring everywhere
Let it go from farm and field
Let it ring in the skyscraper where
They will here it once again wield
The power wield the hope
To topple over all those
Who are sanding in there way
All those who did say
Freedom shalln’t be here
There everywhere
Not limited to those with money
Not limited to those with 20
Billion of anything
But all of us let freedom ring
Freedom is ring
Can you hear it singing?
Racism is still around
It can always be round
But it shall be no more
As the racism has in store a terrible end indeed
They will stop and think why must I say this and that
Why must I be mean to others, why must I begin to make a spat
What is the point what shall it be this is it they shall see
To clear there hate and clear there minds
Clear the mind not whipping the hides
No being driven by hate
They may never make it to the pearly gates
poem
by
Timothy Young
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