The continuous noise of a rock being struck, br Multiplying hundreds of times. br The pick on stone, like the hammer that strikes, br on a clock that forever chimes. br br The well muscled arms, and the sweating backs, br toiled onwards with not a thirst slaked. br These stolen men, harshly chained to a line, br Oh, how their shattered bodies ached. br br White dust seeped into each eye and dry mouth, br beneath that cruel blistering heat. br From sunrise they‘d work until past sunset, br with barely a moment to eat. br br For wealth they were seized, captive they’d remain, br No status within our country. br And in history books, lies a huge stain, br of the evil of slavery.