NaPoWriMo: Day 4

The black man a'runnin with the sweat down his face,
See the black man a'runnin with the sweat down his face,
'Cause the white man tryna catch him fast in his chase.

Sand stones prod the skin when the wrath of them hits,
I say, Sand stones prod the skin when the wrath of them hits.
Now my black man, crying in a corner sits.

Take up my rifle to shoot shells at these men,
I'm gon' take up my rifle to shoot shells at these men.
Independent black woman, myself I can fend.

The blood lay warm under these cold white sheets
Conceal the bodies of white men under cold white sheets,
I gon' let the blood run down and bathe my bare feets.

Trepidation have me sittin' under in a tavern,
Can you see me and trepidation under in this a tavern?
While my black man ashes to dust in this cheap ash urn.

Bar man pour that whiskey straight onto the ice,
I cry, 'Bar man pour that whiskey straight onto the ice'
Say, the stench and burn for my loneliness will suffice.


Arlana Panduleni Shikongo
                                                                           


Prompt: The traditional blues song is the 12-bar blues, in which all the lyrics basically boil down to any number of three line stanzas in which two lines are more or less repeated, followed by a third line.