In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

127 Yalobusha County Tim Hall Ridin through Yalobusha County in an old SNCC car In Mississippi, in 1965 Four civil rights workers, tryin to stay alive Two of us Black an two of us white Three freedom riders had already died The Klan might not catch us, but they sure was gonna try There was Howard, from Holly Springs SNCC Field Secretary, which he didn’t hide Cream levis blue workshirt cowboy hat an Black pride An Pepper from Fayette, aint scared of a damn thing Big an roly-poly jump on him an see that man swing An Freda from New York, Jewish an all guts She’d go anywhere for freedom, she didnt care The crackers thought she was nuts An me a white Ohio boy new scared but pissed off When they killed those little girls in Birmingham I said that’s not how I get off, you’d better lay off I had to fight that racist shit, I had to take my name off Or how could I face my children, how could I wash the shame off? I was drivin my ‘56 Ford, Bought in Memphis, crackers knew what for. They put sawdust in the crankcase of the Chevy, but not the Ford Got duals an glass packs with that deep exhaust roar Drivin out of Holly Springs we were feelin good an flyin On our way to Shaw, the Freedom Labor Union town But the shit got serious at the Yalobusha line Cause the spies in Holly Springs must have got on the line With the courthouse gang in Oxford an tol them the time Cause the sheriff was waitin at the Welcome to Yalobusha County sign An I started to sweat as I checked the speed limit sign 128 An the speedometer an eased my foot and put it in a glide An saw the sheriff car pull out an come up from behind An tail us close like they planned a lynch-time An Howard busted out with that old freedom song rhyme: (Sung to tune of civil rights song “Eyes on the Prize”) We have hung our heads an cried All for Herbert Lee who died Keep your eyes o-on that prize Hold on! Hold on! Ho-old on! Ho-old o-o-on! Keep your ey-es o-on that pri-i-ize Ho-old on! Hold on! We have walked through the shadow of death We have walked all by ourself Keep your eyes o-on that prize Hold on! Hold on! Ho-old on! Ho-old o-o-on! Keep your ey-es o-on that pri-i-ize Ho-old on! Hold on! Now that sheriff car was ridin right up on our ass But I didnt dare floor it, couldn’t let him hear the glass packs An that baby was fast but not that fast So I drove slow an sweaty tryin to make the minutes pass Pepper said, “That motherfucker givin us a test Or they got some cars layin for us somewhere to the wes We better slide on slow an look our bes” He said, “You drivin good, just don give it no gas Le me tell you a story to make the time pass How we fucked up the Kluxers the year before las Le see, it was in Fayette, cross the Tennessee line Where we started to reddish Black people, a hunnert at a time 129 Them crackers went crazy when they seen us in the courthouse line They tol the white bosses all of our names An before we knowed we was off of our farms From land we sharecropped since slavery time Some freedom riders helped us organize And we set up a Tent City on a Black man’s land The Kluxers got pissed, called it a crime Night riders came by shootin at the tents at night But they pick the wrong damn people to fuck with this time My Daddy was in Korea an so was Jesse Lyon An Duke an his boys from down by the line So we all layed in ditches that very next night An when the Kluxers come by we give em a fire-fight No one got hurt, boy that was a surprise But the Kluxers lef squealin, goin 95 An the very nex day when I went into town Somepin had changed in the white man’s min They useta call me boy an expec me...

pdf

Additional Information

ISBN
9780797496989
Related ISBN
9780797486164
MARC Record
OCLC
1056749179
Pages
300
Launched on MUSE
2018-10-14
Language
English
Open Access
No
Back To Top

This website uses cookies to ensure you get the best experience on our website. Without cookies your experience may not be seamless.