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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