When you live in the South, one question can make you or break you socially, " Who's Yore Daddy?" If they don't like yore answer, Ya better run!

I be a child full of questions, Who's eyes are these I wonder?
Seein my reflection, gives me cause to ponder.
I don't looks like my Ma,
Thar be no dad burn trace of a Pa.
I once asked my Mama, she sez" Well, Chile, I don't rightly remember",
" Seems like, I met him in December!"
" Aww Chile, it don't make no never mind, cause you belongs to me",
" We don't need no ole man hangin round, he'd jest be dead wood on our family tree!"
Kids calls my Mama a Ho, they sez that I aint gots no Pa,
They daily calls me names, whomps on me, it otter be against the law!
I don't know much bout birthin, but knows it takes two,
Who done give me this here black hair and eyes of aqua blue?
When I goes to town, I studies men's faces,
I looks real hard fur traces.
When I was got, was it like critters matin?
Did anybody think bout me, or just the lust they was satin?
Folks is always whisperin bout me as they points they's finger,
It aint my fault, it makes me sore and makes me burn with anger!
Folks are always askin," Who's yore Daddy Chile?"
Knowin damn well, that I don't know, hurtin me all the while!

MUSIC: LOVE CHILD