Читать книгу Cane - Jean Toomer - Страница 11

Come, brother, come. Lets lift it;

Come now, hewit! roll away!

Shackles fall upon the Judgment Day

But lets not wait for it.

God’s body’s got a soul,

Bodies like to roll the soul,

Cant blame God if we dont roll,

Come, brother, roll, roll!

Cotton bales are the fleecy way

Weary sinner’s bare feet trod,

Softly, softly to the throne of God,

“We aint agwine t wait until th Judgment Day!

Nassur; nassur,

Hump.

Eoho, eoho, roll away!

We aint agwine t wait until th Judgment Day!”

God’s body’s got a soul,

Bodies like to roll the soul,

Cant blame God if we dont roll,

Come, brother, roll, roll!