[No Title] p.16

[No Title] p.16

"Now I used to be a soldier
Of the good old U.S.A.
And I fought in France’s trenches
Till they had the Arm’stice Day

Then they said the war was over,
And the fighting was all done;
So we took the steamer homeward
Mighty Glad we licked the Hun.

The the lad was quiet and peaceful
Until Independence Day
When the fireworks shooting started
In an awful fearful way

Little kids were bombing, throwing
Fireworks about the street
And the mighty cannon crackers
‘Sploded right beneath your feet.

Roman candles, sparklers sizzling,
Bombs a-bursting ‘round your head;
Little girls with torn up fingers
And a few hurt or dead.

All the merchants was a-talking
Of the patriotic way,
Saying fireworks, celebration
Makes a real old holiday.

Yes they make a lot of money
From the folks who’ve least to eat
Who could better use their earnings
Putting shoes upon their feet.

And this poor man’s celebration
Makes the rich man happy, gay:
‘Cause he sells the ‘spensive [sic] doodads
For to celebrate the day. "

OBIE McCullum

Baltimore Afro-American

1927-7-2