I was standing on the hillbilly side watching and wondering
How’d they get them black boys up, the sun was setting?
I wonder what they did or why they hanging so grotesque
Them trees, a black silhouette against an orange sky so fine
One of them boys wassa’ friend of mine we met while fishing
Now that silhouette won’t leave my mind, that flathead catfish
We reeled it in, cut it down the gut, carried it home for our teas
His to his and mine to mine that orange, blood red sky so fine
Now the fish don’t jump so high I have a nagging pain in my head
Since that silhouette, a pain I cain’ forget, the murmuring stream
It speaks to me, what could have been, not what my fool folks cain’ see
That vermillion sun bloody, the black boys hanging, the catfish jumping.
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