Scrounging up the last few dimes br from his momma's secret wardrobe, br Leon headed out br that cold September morning, br knowing two things. br One, he'd never see his momma again, br not alive anyway, br And two, even if he did see his momma, br she'd just tear a switch off the old willow tree br in their backyard, br and tan his hide br black and blue. br br br Ain't got no right br in this here Hollers br for a grown man, black or white. br br Don't matter if you were alive in the '50s, br you can still see the lynching br like it happened to you yesterday br br Ain't got no time br to squawk like Sunday morning's chicken br Just because br you're about to get your neck broken. br br Them greens sure do smell good br when you fry 'em up in lard br left over from the pig's feet br your momma stewed for Mr. Perkins, br the only white man who dare set foot br on this here Hollers. br br I ain't got no time br for some preacher man telling me br what I should've done br You ain't fought a damn day in your life br for anything other than the paycheck br that comes to you when women in hand-me-down br dresses throw dollars onto your wet plate. br br I fought for my country. br I bet you can't say the same.