White Mule, Black Man Songtext
von Adeem the Artist
White Mule, Black Man Songtext
When the fair hit town
The folks came down with pockets full of jingling change to spend
Kids with disabilities sold by their families
Learning how to hustle down bees′n
They'd joke and rhyme, drop hat lines
While the locals jeer and chew
Smoke cigarettes at sun rise
And then sleep ′til the afternoon
But if the mule don't wake when the circus gate
Starts forming lines again
Well, a white mules curse means more round here
Than the last words muttered by murdered Black Men
It was sometime in the late 1800's when the circus come to Knoxville
They had a flying trapeze and some clowns as well
But the draw was a rare white mule
And the elders said the thing fell dead and cursed the land in turn
Made the businesses sensitive to unexpected instances
Where occasionally they would burn
When you are in possession and authority of a brick and mortar store
It is not good for it to just catch on fire like that
Now, Maurice, he was a sweet young man
With coffee skin, dawning a costly grin
Bastard son of a politician
Even known to have a handful of white girlfriends
He was not well loved by the city bulls
Or fools like Andy White
So that gang framed him for murder
Pulled him out of bed in the middle of the night
But if the Tennessee River runs red with blood
Till the city runs white again
Well, a white mules curse means more round here
Than the last words muttered by murdered Black Men
It was in 1919 that the riot started in Knoxville, Tennessee
The white folk wanted a lynching
So they burned city hall on what is now called market street
And the National Guard got called in and set up down in the Bowery
Joined the mob putting bullets into Black Knoxvillians
Or chasing them out of the city
It′s disgusting isn′t it?
To think that Maurice Mayes' last words
Were stopped by the executioner′s one last act of inhumanity
But they's white folks worried then that a mule
Had cursed their businesses to cyclical calamity
No, Knoxville is haunted by ghosts
Tethered by a cycle of inaction
As long as a white mule′s curse means more
Than the last words muttered by murdered Black men
Wait, wait, wait
The folks came down with pockets full of jingling change to spend
Kids with disabilities sold by their families
Learning how to hustle down bees′n
They'd joke and rhyme, drop hat lines
While the locals jeer and chew
Smoke cigarettes at sun rise
And then sleep ′til the afternoon
But if the mule don't wake when the circus gate
Starts forming lines again
Well, a white mules curse means more round here
Than the last words muttered by murdered Black Men
It was sometime in the late 1800's when the circus come to Knoxville
They had a flying trapeze and some clowns as well
But the draw was a rare white mule
And the elders said the thing fell dead and cursed the land in turn
Made the businesses sensitive to unexpected instances
Where occasionally they would burn
When you are in possession and authority of a brick and mortar store
It is not good for it to just catch on fire like that
Now, Maurice, he was a sweet young man
With coffee skin, dawning a costly grin
Bastard son of a politician
Even known to have a handful of white girlfriends
He was not well loved by the city bulls
Or fools like Andy White
So that gang framed him for murder
Pulled him out of bed in the middle of the night
But if the Tennessee River runs red with blood
Till the city runs white again
Well, a white mules curse means more round here
Than the last words muttered by murdered Black Men
It was in 1919 that the riot started in Knoxville, Tennessee
The white folk wanted a lynching
So they burned city hall on what is now called market street
And the National Guard got called in and set up down in the Bowery
Joined the mob putting bullets into Black Knoxvillians
Or chasing them out of the city
It′s disgusting isn′t it?
To think that Maurice Mayes' last words
Were stopped by the executioner′s one last act of inhumanity
But they's white folks worried then that a mule
Had cursed their businesses to cyclical calamity
No, Knoxville is haunted by ghosts
Tethered by a cycle of inaction
As long as a white mule′s curse means more
Than the last words muttered by murdered Black men
Wait, wait, wait
Writer(s): Kyle Bingham Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
