Spirit of our forbearers We welcome your presence in this place Spirit of our Mothers and Fathers past We invoke your presence in this sacred circle Spirit of our Grandparents and Great-grandparents We invite your presence among us now Spirit of all those who have gone before us in struggle Join us as we enumerate your honorable names. We address you on this special occasion Knowing that your energies, your sacrifice Your wisdom and compassion have brought us thus far. We beckon your presence to protect and guide us Linger with us, and be our shield in times of trouble As we face the challenges of each new day. We acknowledge your primacy to our own well being We salute you and commemorate your example Recalling all the good and wonderful deeds you have performed. We pour a libation to preserve our sacred kinship We give homage to you as a renewal of our sacred trust Be with us now and forevermore. . . (Call names of ancestors as libation is poured. . .

Praise to Generational Midwives My grandmothers were tougher than any seasoned thoroughbred For them medicine came in the form of pot liquor & crackling bread. Strong women who gave birth naturally without epidurals at all No emails, texts or cell phones, yet they were ever ready & on call! These Conja women would eek out a way, unafraid of toil Could even do magic with vinegar, turpentine and some castor oil. The backbone of their family, they believed in the value of unity Blessed generational midwives the epitome of real community. Praise the black Earth mama’s, mothers of soldiers gone to war With their never-give-up spirit, they didn’t see themselves as poor. Running against the winds, fighting racism with one hand tied Still lifting their eyes to the hills in pride, taking everything in stride. These gifted Sun-wives were rich in proverbial wisdom & mother wit Spouting antidotes for the ills of life, didn’t know the meaning of quit. Magical earth mothers baking breads, cakes and pies from scratch Working the land with their bare hands, raising children by the batch. Even in the midst of never-enough, they were always able to make do Pulling money out of handkerchiefs hidden deep in their bosoms too. Sewing up holes in the souls of their men-folk using threads of hope Weaving miracles of stability and survival from an invisible rope. My grandmothers were fighter, pound-for-pound the best in their class Fearlessly they’d discipline any child and dare them to try and sass. Scarves were daily wear, but on Sunday hats were their crowning glory Hats off to our strong grandmothers, the pearls of our royal story!

The Story of Juneteenth (2 Years, 6 Months, & 19 Days) it took two years, six months and nineteen days for the message of independence to reach the former slaves! All the cotton and tobacco that was picked for free all the sweat, blood and tears that were shed needlessly all the yes massa’s and no massa’s that were uttered in pain while the word of emancipation was held up by rain? it took two years, six months and nineteen days for the sons and daughters of Africa to know they were no longer slaves! To know that they too were created In the form of a natural man With the right to live their own dream And to build and to hope and to plan. To define their own destiny and determine their own path. . . who withheld such urgent news? Was it the massa’s cruel wrath? Two years, six months and nineteen days yet another puzzle left to probe that’s enough time to reach the remotest corners of this ever spinning globe some say they wanted one more harvest before the news to tell just one more year of dirt free labor and making life for us pure hell. Why wasn’t everybody happy that Men would no longer be owned as cattle? Didn’t we come to this world as human beings Not born as someone’s chattel? Two years, six months, and nineteen days how many more Black children had to be reared as slaves? Instead of spending their precious days knowing they were free to read, and to write, and to grow up naturally. Some say since Teas was not part of the Union It had no obligation to respect freedom’s cost. But how could this rationale hold up when they fought on the side which had obviously lost? Someone knows the real truth, in this history untold Yet the cause of the guilty will never unfold Who said no news is good news, I challenge that lie because my ancestors lived with their freedom denied. Whether it came by mule, or by pony express it couldn’t have come soon enough to end all the stress. So in spite of the 932 day suspense they still took the news in a jubilant sense! Although the privilege of freedom many felt they did not deserve the decree of emancipation brought them hopeful reserve. They knew the war against oppression was not yet done Because the privilege of freedom can only be won! Yes we are still struggling to liberate ourselves In this native red & brown man’s land. And to gain the power to play our own GOD-given hand Juneteenth reminds us of the next battle we must earnestly wage To ensure that our energy is not wasted on blind rage. As we prepare each new generation for competitive gain So our ancestors blood will not have been shed in vain. Two years, six months, and 19 days Still so far to go, yet we’ve come a long, long ways!

Who Killed Little Boy? Another man-child is born into the ghetto masquerade With no father at home to guide him, he’s lost and afraid Which road will he choose to travel in this troubled life? How will he find his way through all the misery & strife? A wounded mother sits and cries, because her heart has no joy The question burns, she wants to know, who killed, Little boy? He never learned how to multiply and divide, nor to read or spell his name The streets were his only school yard, he searched desperately for fame A Kingpin watched him patiently, like a vulture circling its prey Another innocent mind he’d claim, to pimp and to lead astray And a grandmother cries, tightly clutching Little boy? Hoodies, Tim’s & Air Jordan’s, were the treasures of his hood, Guns, Drugs, and stolen cars, were the symbols for which he stood They jumped him in before his time, his mother’s honor to defend Gangbanging since the age of ten, is what brought him to his end. An Auntie cries out for little Man, the nephew she can no longer enjoy Can anybody tell me. . . I wanna know. . . who killed, Little boy? A 16 year old boy lies dead, and another mother cries A senseless murder, a wasted life, and I ask myself why Was it the father he never knew, the so-called friends who did the do? Or was it the mother who watched in fear, as the streets became his employ? I wanna know who is to blame? Who’s at fault? Who killed Little boy? Oh Lord have mercy, I wanna know the truth. . . who killed Little boy? Well let us start from where it all began. . . take any man from his father land, Strip him of his name, language, his identity, and his cultural brand Deem his religion to be created in Hell, cut out his tongue if he tries to rebel Then chain him in the bowels of a rotten slave ship Make him work under the cruel lash of a bloody bull whip Under the weight of woe, from sun goes up, to sun goes down, Call him evil, demonic, inferior, just because he his skin is dark brown! Write books to justify, this image you destroy. . . so tell me, who killed Little boy? Take the Bible, the Holy Book, the precious word of GOD, Use it to condemn this Son of Ham, a servant of lowly Sod Then condemn him to a war zone, where death lingers on every corner Burned out buildings, weary with age, where hope is a foreigner Abuse is abundant, pain flows like a mighty river, with great ease Rat infested hallways, leaking ceilings, over-ripe with all types of disease With no escape, no way out from this godless misery in sight Living daily off of stale crumbs, from the table of the so-called right! TV’s filled with shows and commercial about a dream deferred Who stole the option to pursue, the grand illusion he preferred Somebody held a gun and pointed it at Little boy’s back A shot rang out and a bullet flew, gliding straight on track, And a gifted young life is gone, and it will never ever return And another mother cries, for her love child, she yearns Was there something she could have done to save her son, Troy? I ask you the same question: Black People, who killed Little boy? I said, who killed Little boy? You see folks there’s another gun. . . And it’s pointed at all of our Little boy’s today But who’s hand holds that gun? Is it my hand? Is it your hand? Our hand? Who killed Little boy? For my sake. . . for your sake. . . for our sake. . . We need to answer this question, do tell. . . but another one as well! The fathers have eaten unripe grapes, children’s teeth are set on edge Who’s gonna help save Little boy? Who’s gonna take this pledge? Who’s gonna show Little boy the way, shed light upon his day? I said who’s gonna help save Little boy, and show him a better way?

The Ballad of Nat Turner I am on my way, to the New Jerusalem, Where the Sun will never go down. Every day I am making preparations, Getting ready to go my Lord, getting ready to go! I’m packing up, getting ready to go And you know the wheels begin to turn, And you know the fire begins to burn, I’m packing up, getting ready to go (2x) I’m packing up, getting ready to go!!!! This is the heroic tale of a preacher named Nat, he was a freedom fighter, a shol’ nough revolutionary Cat! One day he had a revelation, way back in 1825, to do more than just exist or merely struggle to survive. This vision gave him the courage, to no longer be enslaved, while living in the land of the free, and the home of the brave. During the day he worked the land of the old Turner plantation, But at night he prayed and tarried by faith for the Spirit’s visitation. He was waiting for an omen to come, a signal from above, then he’d make his move to seek the freedom he truly loved. He organized a group of fearless men, who were ready to take a stand Their plan was to start with one Big House, just to gain the upper hand. Next they would ride from place-to-place, setting all the captives free. GOD didn’t make men and women to die enslaved, but to live in dignity! So Nat prepared his heart & steadied his mind to face this evilness, while many others too afraid to resist, accepted being powerless. Why is it that some give in to wrong, and betray their very soul, rather than choose to side with right, and strive for a life of gold? Don’t they know man’s natural right in the harmony of this world GOD made us all to live unchained, our potential to unfurl. Did not Moses challenge Ol’ Pharoah to let GOD’S people go? And didn’t the Hebrews take by force, their right to live and grow? Let no man tell you what you dare not do, upon GOD’S holy earth. For this land was made for you and me, from the moment of our birth! Well, Nat continued to wait and pray, for deliverance soon one day And late one night he heard a voice, say son take freedom’s way! No more whips, chain and coffles, no more burden of free labor No more rations of food and clothes, no more second-class favor. No more yes massa, no massa, please, no more begging & whining for me I’m taking back my personhood, pride and my God-given liberty! For what does it profit a man to live enslaved, never to choose his fate? When opportunity comes, you’d better grab-ahold, before it gets too late. We all were born with our free will, each day we make a choice, To quietly suffer under the weight of woe, or to exercise our own voice! Nat spoke up in a loud, bold manner, and warned the Evil Ones, On this very night we will rise above, and set free our daughters and sons! To a New Jerusalem we’ll journey yet, where no man is put asunder. We’ll take our freedom mile-by-mile, amidst the roll of thunder! We’re packing up getting ready to go, even if it means sure death! We’ll fight till our victories won, or we draw our very last breath! And fight they did, twas a noble battle, to end their terrible plight, Yes, Rev. Nat Turner, lived and died, for what he knew was right! So whenever you hear the words to that old song, just remember Rev. Nat, He was a freedom lover, and a man of GOD, and it don’t get no better than that! Said, I am on my way, to the New Jerusalem. . .

This is the House That GOD Built Psalm 24:1 “The Earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof; the world and they that dwell within.” This is the House that GOD built This is the Sky that envelopes the House that GOD built This is the Sun that hangs in the Sky That envelopes the House that GOD built. This is the Moon that reflects light from the Sun, that hangs in the Sky That envelopes the House that GOD built. This is the Tide that ebbs & flows with the Moon, that reflects Light from the Sun That hangs in the Sky, that envelopes the House that GOD built. This is the Earth with its Mountains and Trees, that receives the Tide That ebbs & flows with the Moon, that reflects Light from the Sun That hangs in the Sky, that envelopes the House that GOD built. This is the Plant Life that came out of the Seas That lives on the Earth with its Mountains and Trees That receives the Tide that ebbs & flows with the Moon That reflects Light from the Sun that hangs in the Sky That envelopes the House that GOD built. This is the Animal Kingdom, the Birds and the Bees That depend on the Plant Life that came out of the Seas That live on the Earth, that receives the Tide that flows with the Moon That reflects Light from the Sun, that hangs in the Sky That envelopes the House that GOD built. This is the Human that pollutes the Water, the Soil & Breeze Destroying the Animal Kingdom, the Birds and the Bees That depend on the Plant Life that came out of the Seas That lives on the Earth, that receives the Tide, that flows with the Moon That reflects Light from the Sun, that hangs in the Sky That envelopes the House that GOD built. This is the Corporation that exploits human needs That pollutes the Water, the Soil and Breeze That destroys the Animal Kingdom, the Birds and the Bees That depends on the Plant Life that came out of the Seas That live off the Earth with its Mountains and Trees That receives the Tide that ebb & flows with the Moon That reflects Light from the Sun, that hangs in the Sky That envelopes the House that GOD built. This is the Bank with its loans, credits and deeds That conspires with Corporations to exploit human needs That pollutes the Water, the Soil and Breeze That destroys the Animal Kingdom, the Birds and the Bees That depends on the Plant Life that came out of the Seas That live off the Earth with its Mountains and Trees That receives the Tide that ebbs & flows with the Moon That reflects Light from the Sun, that hangs in the Sky That envelopes the House that GOD built. This is the Government with its toxic decrees That protects the Banks with its loans, credits and deeds That conspires with Corporations to exploit human needs That pollutes the Water, the Soil and Breeze That destroys the Animal Kingdom, the Birds and the Bees That depends on the Plant Life that came out of the Seas That live of the Earth with its Mountains and Trees That receives the Tide that ebbs & flows with the Moon That reflects Light from the Sun, that hangs in the Sky That envelopes the House that GOD built. This is the challenge the next generation must heed To transform this Government with tis toxic decrees That protects the Banks with its loans, credits and deeds That conspires with Corporations to exploit human needs That pollutes the Water, the Soil and Breeze That destroys the Animal Kingdom, the Birds and the Bees That depends on the Plant Life that came out of the Seas That live off the Earth with its Mountains and Trees That receives the Tide that ebbs & flows with the Moon That reflects Light from the Sun, that hangs in the Sky That envelopes the House that GOD built. To begin this new work we must sow a new seed That will initiate this challenge, this divine call we must heed To transform this Government with its toxic decrees That protects the Banks with its loans, credits and deeds That conspires with Corporations to exploit human needs That pollutes the Water, the Soil and Breeze That destroys the Animal Kingdom, the Birds and the Bees That depends on the Plant Life that came out of the Seas That live off the Earth with its Mountains and Trees That receives the Tide that ebbs & flows with the Moon That reflects Light from the Sun, that hangs in the Sky That envelopes the House that GOD built. Your body is not yours- it belongs to the Most High Your mind is not yours- it is a gift from the Almighty One This is the body you’ve been given from birth To use to the fullest and to maintain on this Earth Not to pollute it with toxins from old Mickey D’s But to fuel it with natural foods such as these. . . Fruits, vegetables, grains, and all manner of beans, To limit fat, grease, and starches—an unhealthy regime. To exercise the mind, with reading and thinking To hydrate the body with fresh water for drinking And please don’t forget to sow seeds in your soul, Through yoga and meditation your best self can unfold So take care of this house you’ve been gifted to use And life will be all gain- you’ll have nothing to lose!

An Ode To Black Mothers by William “Mbiyu” Moore I am the lost/found son of ancient African forerunners I am the second generation offspring of my paternal Grandmother I am the firstborn male-child of my terrestrial birth Mother I am the tall, dark and handsome junior brother of little Sister Soul I am the true friend and secret lover of sweet Lady blues Everything that I am, and ever will be I owe to you women-black So this is an ode to you—my precious Black Mothers! My bloodline flows from the umbilical cord of a sacred, royal womb The melodious rhythm of your heartbeat pushed me into this world GOD blessed me with the spiritual gifts of a rich matrilineal inheritance I find completion in the ebony culture of an imperial ancestral heritage I am grateful to you for your stolen legacy of love and resilience I am eternally indebted to you for all that I have ever received So this is an ode to you--- Africa’s unforgotten mothers! This is a tribute to you Queens, princesses and daughters of humanity For you are the fertile basin of all that is civil, clean and pure Your feminine energy makes this entire world go around It is your creative she-force that generates life to all substances Without the nourishing and nurturing of your female essence There could be no balance, no harmony or completeness So this is an ode to you—Africa’s Earth mothers! Beautiful and benevolent you are the caregivers of Creation You are the backbone of everything humane in man’s inhuman domain The first women to master childrearing and to domesticate humans You taught the world how to converse, cook, dance, sing and pray You are the true mother of invention making more out of less Making do out of undoable, making ways out of no ways So this is an ode to you—wonder working Black mothers! As a Black Mother in the 1700’s you were turned into a slave Forced to breed children to feed the capitalistic greed of Europeans You watched in horror and rage as your children were snatched away Your husbands, uncles, brothers, sons and daughters abused and broken On the journey across the Great Waters you survived the unendurable Bearing the stench, disease, torture and killings of a brutal African Maafa So this is an ode to you—Africa’s lost mothers! Through the unpaid labor of generations of your children, America was built Yet you received no gratitude, courtesies, or thankfulness You watched your family buckle under the terror of Klan & Jim Crow You carried the burden of two families nursing babies that were not yours Cleaning toilets and scrubbing floors you labored to send your own to school With a double stigma of being Black and female you fought racism unarmed So this is an ode to your steadfast determination—African Sun Mothers. I know you’ve seen enough pain to fill the deepest valleys of the Congo I know you’ve overcome enough sadness to reach the peak of Mt. Kilimanjaro I know you’ve shouldered the weight of the world upon your sturdy back I know you’ve cried enough tears to fill the circumference of the widest ocean I know you’ve witnessed enough heartaches and heartbreaks to last an eternity But it’s the tenacity of your warrior spirit that has kept you holding on So this is an ode to you my regal Pan-African Mothers! I’m singing you a happy song Black Mother’s of the Diaspora I’m singing you a song of praise because honor is long overdue I’m singing you a ballad of hope and promise for better times ahead I’m singing you a song of respect and admiration, appreciation and gratitude I’m singing you a love song because I love you Black Mothers For all of your toil and labor, losses and setbacks, hardships and despair Yes this is an ode to you women of color—African mothers! I’m giving a shout out to the beauty of my glorious Black women I’m giving a shout out to kinky hair, full thick lips and wide hips I’m giving a shout out to curvaceous legs and to broad baby-back butts I’m giving a shout out to dark skin, tan skin, cocoa, caramel and yellow skin I’m giving a shout out to cornrows and gazillions, locks, afro’s and natural hair I’m giving a shout out to sexy walks and sexy smiles, sexy ways and styles Yes this is an ode to the most beautiful species on Earth—African mothers! On behalf of all Black men who live or have ever lived, we say thank you Thank you for your infectious laughter and your expressive language, thank you For your genius, creativity and resourcefulness, thank you for your courage, Compassion and understanding, thank you for your loyalty to family, friends and community Thank you for your unrelenting faith in Divine Will and Purpose Thank you for the gifts of our children, the future of our hopes and dreams It’s an ode to you Mothers/Black, for truly GOD made you in Her own image!

We Are The WordMasters! in the beginning was the word and the word was of GOD and GOD made the word into flesh filling the empty spaces of the universe with cosmic sounds of pulsing reverberation and the word came forth like the roar of a potent rushing river, the sound came forth like the crash of oceanic waves dashing against the sandy shores of the earth’s receding hairline resonating into the depths of darkness bouncing back into the brilliance of the light and the voices came forth resounding and the voices came forth bellowing and the voices came forth harmonizing the African-ness of creation upon every receiving energy being echoing, ringing, vibrating, emanating truth as spiritual nourishment for the ear of a funky Black man’s soul and thus came the word masters! we are the word masters masters of the spoken word we speak so correct, so correct that even our guttural moanings have meaning we are the wordmasters the producers of multi- languages the creators of similie comparing one thing with another of a different kind using like or as like we the people who are dark as blue the beautiful people who are dark as the night we be the people as colorful as the rainbow the originators of metaphor like although she’s killing me softly with her son she’s still the sunshine of my life! we are the wordsmiths of all time carrying on an oral tradition so rich, so rich like a creamy chocolate chip and strawberry cheesecake with pralines and caramelized pecans on top you can’t get enough, can’t get enough we are the wordsmiths all sentences begin and end with our creative permission because we jumpstarted this wordfeast over a million years ago when the first African alphabets were formulated giving birth to the words of a civilized African empire we are the wordsmiths the masters of syllables in our own motherland we created over two thousand native tongues all filled with the same ebonic flavor so popular in global culture today it’s a black thing that’s why they can’t understand we are the wordmasters creating double negatives ain’t not, won’t never, ain’t never, don’t never, whatsonever and double positives like up in there, or where you be at or my personal favorite whatyougoing? we are the word we are the children of the word we are the ones who play wordgames chanting cadence and rhyme in time with the revolutionary beat of the Creator keeping time, breaking time, cutting time recreating all the time new ways to celebrate the gift of speech rapping our way through the stresses of ghetto life busting feelings into explosive soundboards releasing the energy of our rage and pain we are a poly-rhythmic people wordpoppers popping poetic phrases filled with pounding nouns, penetrating verbs pressing adjectives, and pleasing double pronouns in and out, back and forth up and down, side to side round and again on a-word-merry-go-round turning you every-which-way but loose, you can’t touch this! can’t you feel the word titillating your hungry Black mind can’t you feel the power of the word stimulating the sensory impulses within and massaging the very depths of your thirsty Black-soul singing our ABC’s about love in good and bad times expressing our humanity in tones only a people with spiritual awareness can identify with it’s the language of struggle yall born from our sweat, blood, and sacred tears don’t let them steal your tongue because without it you are nothing! we are the wordmasters breaking the rigid rules of the king’s stale English refusing to be trapped into deadness and simplicity bucking the system of mediocrity why is it that Americans are the only people on earth who can only speak one language? we are the wordmasters boldly going where no euroman dare go espousing musical wordsoounds like Satchmo blowing jazzblues from the belly of his sanctified spirit we cannot be refined, we cannot be confined, we cannot be defined by a monosyllabic culture who can only imitate what we create, piggyback off what we initiate profit off what we generate exploit what we reiterate always hollering about the freedom of speech all the while crushing down the speakers of freedom where is my constitutional right to speak my mind? oh say can you see, what your patriotism is doing to me? we is the wordmasters the emancipators of the word the shol’ nough language libertors freeing the minds, igniting the fires inside we got da moves, we got game we got da run down on the low down we invented the grapevine long before grapes found their way into a bottle of wine we are the vocabulary mixmasters stretching your today’s into tomorrow’s and forever’s tiptoeing backwards over the melanin-laced pores of our folkses hot-buttered souls we are the consecrated craftsman of word delegating, elevating, regulating, capitulating, and illuminating the flow of wisdom ever manufacturing a soooouuultrain of words spreading new life, transcending old images, preaching and teaching a new syntax of empowering vernacular you’d better get on board children and ride this wordtrain, word up brother, word up sister, what’s the word, say what’s the word? spinning word webs and word combinations that enchant the heart and illuminate the mind transforming the elements of sound so eloquently, so eloquently you can’t stop this, you can’t stop this, we’re just a bad mother-shut-your-mouth! can you dig it!?*

Marcus Garvey Rap (A Spoken Word Story) Listen, let me tell you about a man you need to know He was a proud man, he was a brother for sure Born in 1887 on the St. Anne’s Bay A Jamaican-born, freedom-fighting prophet I say His name is Mar-ma-mar-ma-Marcus Gar-vey One of the greatest organizers of the Black man today He put LOVE first above everything in life He was down for the masses trying to end all the strife. While just a young boy Marcus learned the printed word He ran a newspaper press to let his voice be heard He had a whole lot to say about the way things could be If black people stood up and let their minds be free So he began to travel from place-to-place And everywhere he went, he saw oppressions’ face Poverty, ignorance, suffering and pain Why did the lives of his people, leave them nothing to gain And then late one night, while Marcus couldn’t sleep He heard his Ancestors calling from the Ocean deep Crying out to his soul to come and answer the call To give his life to GOD and help his people stand tall From that very moment Marcus realized That there was something he could do to help his people survive So he began to study how to com-mun-i-cate To put his oratory skills in their finest state Yes he could preach, he could talk with a fiery tone This little man from Jamaica had it, going on! When he arrived in New York, in Harlem, USA All the people gathered round him just to hear what he’d say. He told them we don’t have to live with our hat in our hand We are a very proud race, we need to take our stand Whether you’re born in Jamaica, or America We’re all one-in-the-same, our home is Africa! Yes, we’re an African people, we’re a noble race GOD made us Kings and Queens, we need to take our place! Although short in stature, Marcus drew a great crowd Because his vision of freedom made the people feel proud He was a builder, a thinker and a prophet too There was nothing too hard for Marcus Garvey to do He asked a very simple question one hot summer day That we should never forget, do you hear what I say?? He asked: where is the Black man’s government? The Black Ambassador, the Black President? I don’t’ see our great men of big affairs So I will help to build them here and everywhere So with the help of his movement called the U.N.I.A. He began to work toward a brighter day He built a Black shipping company, the Black Star Line A Black Nurse’s Corp. that was mighty fine He built a Black man’s Army and a Navy too He helped his people see, there’s nothing we can’t do! So remember the name, Marcus Garvey my friend He was a great Black man to the very end. If this is your first time hearing Marcus’ name You need to pick up a book and read about his fame Don’t just believe what I say, but check him out for true And when you see that I’m right, come back and give me my due! His name was Mar-ma-mar-ma-Marcus Gar-vey One of the greatest organizers of the Black man today He put love first above everything in life He was down for the masses trying to end all the strife. He said: Up ye mighty race accomplish, what you will There’s nothing we can’t do, there’s nothing we can’t build We have a beautiful history to unfurl, and if we ever get together We’ll astonish the world! What you do today that is worth your while Inspires others to act at some future time. So be ambitious in heart, be great in mind and soul And you can light up the world, and let the truth be told! How dare anyone say that we cannot be free, We are a very proud race, you’d better listen to me! His name was Mar-ma-mar-ma-Marcus Gar-vey One of the greatest organizers of the Black man today He put love first above everything in life He was down for the masses trying to end all the strife. He said: Up ye mighty race accomplish what you will There’s nothing we can’t do, there’s nothing we can’t build We have a beautiful history to unfurl, And if we ever get together (unh-unh!) And if we ever get together (unh-unh!) And if we EVER get TOGETHER We’ll astonish the world! Astonish the World! ASTONISH the WORLD!!!!!!!