Stack 'Em High

Stack them bales 5' high son,
Stack them in the burning hot sun.
No one cares if your backs breakin',
Or if all your bones are achin'.
Stack them bales 5' high son.

The Mississippi Delta Land
is full of cotton picked by hand.
Freedom will be our salvation,
release us from life of frustration.

it wasn't our choice to come here,
brought to this land of work and fear.
We pray to God, "Please break these chains!"
"Hear our voices, relieve our pains."

The owners live with great riches,
while we stoop and dig their ditches.
We have one mission; to escape,
a darkened night across landscape.

Underground railroad will be waiting.
Our hearts beat fast, anticipatin'.
Lead us onward, make us stronger,
slavery will be ours no longer.

We gave thanks to those helping hands,
who stood up for us; made a stand.
People who valued right from wrong,
Threw off the chains from that folksong.

Stack them bales 5' high son,
Stack them in the burning hot sun.
No one cares if your backs breakin',
Or if all your bones are achin'.
Stack them bales 5' high son.


30 Lines
Prompts: Mississippi Delta Land, Cotton, 5' High, One Mission
Submitted to Writer's Cramp 2.19.23