it's about a working Black woman's life and how weary and blue it is,
I got me a son.
It used to be he was on the run.
He was running here and there.
Damn near running everywhere
Now, he ain’t got no job
He just sits home watching Jerr--y.
He surely ain’t no fun.
He got the workingwoman’s weary bluez.
I got me a job, but it hardly pay.
My boss is a woman and she promises me everyday
She says “I’m gonna give you a raise. Just do this for me.”
She thinks I must be stupid and I don’t see.
She’s trying to make a fool outa me.
I got the workingwoman’s weary bluez.
When I retire, I’m gonna get me a maid.
She’ll cook, clean and leave everything just right.
I’m gonna sit round doing nothing all day and night.
Yes ma’am, I got the workingwoman’s weary bluez.
(Self-published. Please contact author directly to order.)
Enter the pages of diaspora in quiet introspection. Bathe your thoughts with subtle humor; synchronize your spirit-sense with history-in-heat; fall headlong with eyes wide open into
You could turn this into a song and make some mon.
Ron