Told me, “Shine, get down that line.”
I told the court, Lawd, “Rather be layin’ in jail
Wid my back turned to de wall.”
I am worried, pretty mama,
But I won’t be worried long.
Thought I rather be in my grave
Than be treated like a slave.
Say, rather be in Birmingham
Eatin’ pound cake and all.
Say, these women in Georgia