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Clatter of their chain haunt across this land
Songs they sang, play on by old brass band
Voices blending every color, at every town hall
All of God's heritage singing there together
One people, one voice, one stanza to share
Equality must be available to all
The young, the old, what race, none be bias
What body be bent, but spirit ever tho' free
And folk hymn of the old folk, ever pass on
To the child reaping where their root still be.
Clatter of their chain haunt across this land
Faces bound a dream, etched as indignant man
Quest never ending, and never quest be lost
Thru swollen days, nor toil of shallow years
The scream for freedom, for love, God and soul
Frederick Douglass and Thurgood Marshall
Black warriors who left us pride to look ahead
Never be color blind, along morrow's eager plan
Children hold to what Rosa Louise Parks said.
Listen! Her echo clatter yet still, across this land. |
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