Old Kerry McKee – Death Oh Death
Oh death I felt your breath pass my shoulder
woeful tones rising from my tongue
Oh death I was born in spews and filth
I am a slave neath my own skin
My tongue a poisoness snake
and my hands I can no more trust
deceit and lies I am the white man
the molester of all time
Obsession controll my intellect undress the tar from my thoughts
tears cutting my artire and that howlin´ burst my calm
Like that old oak I´ll be cut down there´ll be no coffin for my soul
I am the white man on others I tramp heaven I shall not see
We will rise from our graves and gather in Port Royal
beendin knees are aching and bodies racked with pain
That eyesick white man will be sold for a dime
and weep like a child and like cattle he´ll be slain
No mountains more to climb no rivers more to cross no dreams more to dream
we´ll be free at last