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Somebody's
Mammy
By Marcus
B. Christian
All day through,
with her outstretched palms,
She is sitting --
poor Africa -- begging for bread;
From the passers-by
she is taking alms,
But they're marching
on with a heavy tread.
O'er her face of
ebon a smile breaks forth,
Like a burst of
sunshine after the rain,
While the wrinkles
mark its rapid growth --
Now she is smiling
and bowing again.
O! somebody's Mammy
she used to be,
Somebody's Mammy in
days long gone by --
Some little tot sat
upon her knee
When it felt all
blue and wanted to cry.
And her leathery
breast some little thing
has used for a
pillow in days long gone by;
When she held it
closely to gently sing
A plaintive and
wind-combed lullaby.
Somebody's Mammy!
with outstretched palms,
She is sitting --
poor Africa -- begging for bread;
From the passers-by
she is asking aims,
But they're marching on with a heavy
tread.
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