Johanna Harmon Art
Weekend Glory Some clichty folks They move into condos If they want to learn how to live life right My job at the plant Take the church money out Folks write about me. They accuse me of livin' My life ain't heaven
Maya Angelou
don't know the facts,
posin' and preenin'
and puttin' on acts,
stretchin' their backs.
up over the ranks,
pawn their souls
to the local banks.
Buying big cars
they can't afford,
ridin' around town
actin' bored.
they ought to study me on Saturday night.
ain't the biggest bet,
but I pay my bills
and stay out of debt.
I get my hair done
for my own self's sake,
so I don't have to pick
and I don't have to rake.
and head cross town
to my friend girl's house
where we plan our round.
We meet our men and go to a joint
where the music is blue
and to the point.
They just can't see
how I work all week
at the factory.
Then get spruced up
and laugh and dance
And turn away from worry
with sassy glance.
from day to day,
but who are they kiddin'?
So are they.
but it sure ain't hell.
I'm not on top
but I call it swell
if I'm able to work
and get paid right
and have the luck to be Black
on a Saturday night.
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