The wheel of history turns in the gut

 

of the white man     but the Negro is strapped

 

to the wheel     and broken by the turning

 

and nearly liquefied by the turning

 

and the white man sickens     to him who says

 

we do not pay for the life we enjoy

 

I say we pay with our sickness     I say

 

our enjoyment is not what you suppose

 

but it is     instead a life of worry

 

and disappointed love     to him I say

 

yes     we love our Negroes and with a great

 

love Yankees cannot know and would not want

 

to know if they could     and to those who would

 

free the Negro I     say look to your guts

 

you fatten on the people you would free