The Death of Poor Willie James Howard

Gather round, ya'll, all-around the
campfire
I wanna tell ya'll the story of Willie James Howard
Was a mighty good boy, ol' Willie James, there
Kindest heart one could find at the town fair
That ol' fox Willie James, just as shy as can be
Handsome little devil, sole pride of his family's
Willie, limbs stretched out, long as the sky stretches over yonder
Smile just as big, bright yet somber
Christmas day, Willie wrote a handsome note
Built up his courage, and dropped it by her side
"Let her read it!" He hoped.
That evening, adjacent the mistletoe
Daddy, fingered the very same note

"With Love" that ol' Willie James had the great
audacity to have wrote
for even the great book had encouraged endogamy, in hopes
Of staving off the progeny of Canaan, son of Ham-
The untouchables should barely be seen,
And hardly spoke
To have forsaken the ecclesiastical, a hierarchy of race unbespoke

Now Willie James, there, should have known, he'd be hanging from a rope,
Perhaps indeed, upon his deepest apology, he should have sensed he'd be needing a boat
They dragged that boy to Suwannee,
And his Pa, too
Held a gun to his father's head "Nigger, be thankful this ain't you!"
Willie James ain't have no wings, no fins, just his life

And even that has a price.

© BeauAllen