An’ ain’t they Black? An’ ain’t they Black? An’ ain’t they Bad? An’ ain’t they bad? An’ ain’t they Black? An’ ain’t they fine? Black like the hour of the night When your love turns and wriggles close to your side Black as the earth which has given birth To nations, and when all else is gone will abide. Bad as the storm that leaps raging from the heavens Bringing the welcome rain Bad as the sun burning orange hot at midday Lifting the waters again. Arthur Ashe on the tennis court Mohammed Ali in the ring André Watts and Andrew Young Black men doing their thing. Dressing in purples and pinks and
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