The Blues
When the shoe strings break / On both your shoes
I know I am
The Negro Problem
Being wined and dined,
Answering the usual questions
That come to white mind
Which seeks demurely
To Probe in polite way
The why and wherewithal
Of darkness U.S.A.--
Wondering how things got this way
In current democratic night,
Murmuring gently
Over fraises du bois,
I'm so ashamed of being white.
The lobster is delicious,
The wine divine,
And center of attention
At the damask table, mine.
To be a Problem on
Park Avenue at eight
Is not so bad.
Solutions to the Problem,
Of course, wait.
When the shoe strings break / On both your shoes
I could take the Harlem night / and wrap around you,
I been scared and battered. / My hopes the wind done scattered.
By what sends / the white kids