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Waves from that shore.
Came to our door.
Sounds of the chains clank.
From a hole wet and dank.
Many dead, walked the plank.
Fetus dead on the keel stones.
Silent crying, unheard words of a song.
A voyage song from below.
Stench, waste and vomit drying real slow.
Chained to the oaken beams.
Three months at sea.
More dead, silent are thees.
FASHION - COTTON - FASHION - COTTON.
Cries from the powers that be.
Slave ship song, commerce and gold.
Wages paid, by the souls sold.
from 8HOP.com - POEWHIT
JESUS SAVES
