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John Henry
#WritcoPoemPrompt10
Rickety, rick, rackety rack,
The train sings a song on its old track,
We swing with its tune,
Swaying and bouncing a moment too soon, for the bitter fruit to be in full bloom, tracks built by John henry with his bare hands, not only a steel driver but also a black man, rickety, rick, rackety,...
Rickety, rick, rackety rack,
The train sings a song on its old track,
We swing with its tune,
Swaying and bouncing a moment too soon, for the bitter fruit to be in full bloom, tracks built by John henry with his bare hands, not only a steel driver but also a black man, rickety, rick, rackety,...
