It hurts me,
I think it would have hurt him too,
That, after the Great Struggle,
Those who followed,
Spit in the face
Of those who gave so much
For freedom, equality and respect.
Negro Americans, the descendents of slaves,
As was my beloved husband,
Paid such a high price for the rights
Of their children.
Black, brown, white,
Shoulder to shoulder,
Christian and Jew,
They pleaded for justice,
They marched for justice,
They sang for justice,
Some died for justice - in America.
They were insulted, spat upon,
Threatened, beaten and burned:
Little children, murdered.
But, the day came when America
Could no longer tolerate slavery
In the Twentieth Century.
And then, along came people of colour
From other places,
Whose ancestors were not slaves in America.
And many of those smart-assed young punks
Came upon the place of hope
Created by the Americans,
And the newcomers spat on the memory
Of the suffering of the Americans,
And the respect hard-won
By the descendents of the slaves.
And they brought drugs and promiscuity,
And crime and contempt for decency:
And they tarnished the work of the Americans.
Do not judge people by the colour of their skin -
But by the content of their character.
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