I walk the streets of the bucolic South,
Where the children clamor and rejoice,
Near a grisly tree, cherubs play,
In the breeze, a lamented black body sways.

Everywhere, the buildings, the streets,
Displays the demeaning sign,
Separating blacks from whites,
The gentle Southern breeze sweeps,
While my ivory soul wholly weeps.

Oh, reveling to be seen!
Within the heat, ice cream delectable,
Rescuing chills, also in the breeze,
Tinged with a scent of scorched men,
Traveling to my misty eyes from the forest glen.

And my sorrowful heart lingers on,
To walk the streets of the partial, repugnant South.