Page:Songs of Rebellion (Hall 1915).djvu/20

 MY MAMMY'S SON

I don't wan to see him crushed, my dear old mammy's son, The boy I played with long ago, whose "chinas" oft I won; Who stood with me in many fights in the old plantation days; Whose heart was true and loyal in a thousand different ways.

I don't want to see him crushed, his children made the prey Of every wolf that howls along the Anglo-Saxon way; Of every low-browed, heartless thing that bays him with the scream: "I am the Anglo-Saxon and I am the white supreme!"

I don't want to see him crushed, his black face scarred with grief, His sorrows made unending, or his pleasures few and brief; For often I remember how he stood there at my side, When the old home went to pieces, with a friendship true and tried.

I don't want to see him crushed, his life-work made in vain, His misery the corner-stone of demagogic gain; His degradation the excuse for Pharisees on high, A refuge for the scoundrel and a cloak for every lie.

I don't want to see him crushed, nor made a nameless thing, A chattel in the service of the menials of the king; A slave unto the servants who attend the lords of gold, Who are rottening the structure that the fathers built of old.

I don't want to see him crushed, my dear old mammy's son, The boy I played with long ago, whose "chinas" oft I won; And for his sake an Aryan pleads with Aryans to-day To rise in Aryan manhood and drive the wolves away. —14—