Too many people have hung from the trees of Mississippi
Too many people have died in the swamps of Mississippi
Too many people have fled to the ghettos of the North from Mississippi
Mississippi, Mississippi, Mississippi, Mississippi.
Take a walk down to Greenwood, Mississippi
Down in the Delta land
Where a negro can’t vote or get decent education
And he’s not even called a man
Where he sharecrops for under three dollars a day
And he has to be an Uncle Tom
If he doesn’t “Yes, Sir, Mister Charlie” all his life
Then he fears the Klan and the bomb.
Too many people have hung from the trees of Mississippi
Too many people have died in the swamps of Mississippi
Too many people have fled to the ghettos of the North from Mississippi
Mississippi, Mississippi, Mississippi, Mississippi.
Then go down to Jackson, Mississippi
But not if your skin is brown
‘Cause even though it’s a pretty big city
Thinks like a Southern town
And if you’re a so-called white agitator
Then all you’ll meet is hate
‘Cause they think you’re a nigger-lovin’, yankee invader
Come to wreck their sovereign state.
Too many people have hung from the trees of Mississippi
Too many people have died in the swamps of Mississippi
Too many people have fled to the ghettos of the North from Mississippi
Mississippi, Mississippi, Mississippi, Mississippi.
Then go down to Neshoba, Mississippi
Where the Klansmen rule by fear
And if two dead hadn’t been white in Philadelphia
Then the world would never hear
For who knows how many have died in the Delta?
And how many lives have been lost?
Only the people who live in Mississippi
By the light of the flaming cross.
Too many people have hung from the trees of Mississippi
Too many people have died in the swamps of Mississippi
Too many people have fled to the ghettos of the North from Mississippi
Mississippi, Mississippi, Mississippi, Mississippi.
Too many people have died in the swamps of Mississippi
Too many people have fled to the ghettos of the North from Mississippi
Mississippi, Mississippi, Mississippi, Mississippi.
Take a walk down to Greenwood, Mississippi
Down in the Delta land
Where a negro can’t vote or get decent education
And he’s not even called a man
Where he sharecrops for under three dollars a day
And he has to be an Uncle Tom
If he doesn’t “Yes, Sir, Mister Charlie” all his life
Then he fears the Klan and the bomb.
Too many people have hung from the trees of Mississippi
Too many people have died in the swamps of Mississippi
Too many people have fled to the ghettos of the North from Mississippi
Mississippi, Mississippi, Mississippi, Mississippi.
Then go down to Jackson, Mississippi
But not if your skin is brown
‘Cause even though it’s a pretty big city
Thinks like a Southern town
And if you’re a so-called white agitator
Then all you’ll meet is hate
‘Cause they think you’re a nigger-lovin’, yankee invader
Come to wreck their sovereign state.
Too many people have hung from the trees of Mississippi
Too many people have died in the swamps of Mississippi
Too many people have fled to the ghettos of the North from Mississippi
Mississippi, Mississippi, Mississippi, Mississippi.
Then go down to Neshoba, Mississippi
Where the Klansmen rule by fear
And if two dead hadn’t been white in Philadelphia
Then the world would never hear
For who knows how many have died in the Delta?
And how many lives have been lost?
Only the people who live in Mississippi
By the light of the flaming cross.
Too many people have hung from the trees of Mississippi
Too many people have died in the swamps of Mississippi
Too many people have fled to the ghettos of the North from Mississippi
Mississippi, Mississippi, Mississippi, Mississippi.
envoyé par Alessandro - 24/7/2009 - 13:27
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Essendo curioso di facce e di storie, soprattutto minime, mi sono chiesto che fine avesse fatto questa Charyn immortalata sulla copertina del Broadside, e di cui è nota questa sola canzone...
E ho scoperto che è morta di cancro nel 2004, all’età di 57 anni, dopo una vita molto intensa al servizio della sua comunità, e non solo quella afroamericana: attivista per i diritti civili negli anni ’60 (ne aveva appena 18 quando chiedeva al Broadside di pubblicare questa sua canzone), si è poi laureata con un master in giornalismo ed è stata la prima giornalista di colore nella redazione del The Philadelphia Inquirer. Nella sua vita professionale si è occupata di salute, di prevenzione e cura delle malattie, di servizi alla popolazione giovanile, di giustizia criminale, di sviluppo socio-economico delle comunità di base, di tutela dei consumatori. In particolare, si è battuta strenuamente contro le multinazionali del tabacco e per l’informazione relativa ai danni che il fumo provoca alla salute. Celebre una sua battaglia, risalente agli anni ’90, contro una marca di sigarette, le “Uptown”, per così dire “segregazionista”, perché destinata soltanto ai consumatori di colore…
Insomma, quella foto di una giovane ragazza nera e quella sua canzone così intensa contro il razzismo ed il segregazionismo nel sud degli USA lasciavano ben sperare… e così è stato.