Mister William's Christmas Gift

I went down to the station
Boarded the Pullman car
The porter aked,
"Where you going mister?
I hope it ain't too far.
This old thing hasn't moved
Since Nineteen and Thirty-Two.
Seems like its waiting for something,
But I doubt its you."

So I went to the theater,
Where my uncle Bert once played.
His black faced shuffle
Haunted the place.
"Nobody knows my sorrow,"
He say.
I heard the laughter
Up in nigger heaven
As I unwrapped his Christmas gift.
It was an old burnt cork
As I put it on me
It gave my spirits a lift.

So I headed back to the station
And I boarded that Pullman car
"This trains bound for Vaudeville, Frankie."
I asked the porter, "how far?"
"This old thing hasn't moved." He said.
"Since Nineteen and Thirty-Two
Seems like it's waiting for something.
I suspect,
Known only to the likes of you."

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