The black man, Oh black man. The book is full of beautiful Plans and resolutions, This fellow lived His life in a land of most repulsive Thieves and charlatans. And in that land the December snow Is pure as the very devil, And the snowstorms drive Merry sprinning-weels. This man was an adventurer, Though of the highest And the best quality. Oh, he was elegant, And the poet at that, Albeit of a slight But useful gift.
Slow fools are always Known for being unhappy.
The greatest art on earth Is to seem uncomplicatedly gay. YOu do not live as A deep-sea diver. Please read this story To someone else. Who'd robbed a man Openly, without shame. Ah friend, my friend, How sick I am.