MARKET TOWN

james went down to the market town perched on his father’s knee
for to sell their cotton and buy their livestock and trade their tobacco for coffee and tea
it was market day in the market town by the red clay riverside
and the street was full of strange sights and sounds and james his eyes were wide

there were farmers and merchants and dogs in the dust
there were pigs and cattle and horses in harness
there were sacks of white sugar and tins of molasses
cotton in bales and trees cut into planks

was a man named green in the market town
bound for new orleans the last stop down
and james and his father went to see the man’s wares
in a little yard hidden from curious stares

now green the soul driver a whip in his hand
set his stock to dancing said look aren’t they happy
but even young james could see the difference in style
between a grimace of pain and a smile

was an old man of sixty boot black in his hair
for to make him look forty still plenty of work in there
was a woman with two daughters and a girl with one son
and jim’s father’s eye fixed on that little one

now all down the street of the market town
you could hear the girls scream as her son was sold
over the barking and bleating over the haggling and cheating
her wailing should turn the blood cold

but green plied his whip till his both arms were tired
and james watched the life leave her eyes
and james and his father took their property away
and the scars have not healed to this day

so take care what you do for your market town
for your oil in barrels and your money in banks
you can kick dust over the blood on the ground
but you’re still whipping people to dance
and even a child will see that
and then you will see what you get

fall 98 New Orleans
© myshkin 1999