Emett Till

Listen, my children,
Listen, my folks.

A story of a boy of 14 of age.
It’s a story of terror,
A story of rage.
All began down by the Tallahatchie River,
Money, Mississippi,
Emmett Till was the name.
A name that will remain in fame.
In fame it will.
The tale of Emmett Till

Let us carry on my children,
Let us carry on my folks.

Young Till came down from Chicago,
Down to visit his relatives
Where his uncle lives.
Little did Emmett Till know,
The danger that was to come.
Though,
This story might shock some.
Till told his stories bout’ up in the North
He then came forth,
Telling his tale about his not segregated schools.
The cousins were astounded,
After Till opened his mouth

You see my children,
You see my folks,

The lifestyles were different down in the south.
A dare was dared to poor Emett Till,
I remember it still.
Daring to a young boy oblivious to danger an risk,
He accepted the dare,
He didn’t care,
Down to the candy shop he marched,
Only confidence,
no sign of fear,
Emmett Till stepped into the store,
Began getting candy,
While his cousins remained at the door,
And up to the counter he walked,
Where a white girl worked or stood,
He bought the candy
As he promised he would,
But as he stepped out through the entrance.
He cried out,
“bye baby!” to the girl he had payed,

Listen, my children,
Listen, my folks,

That that is an important mistake that was made.
It was said,
No going back,
Back to the house,
Back to the shack.
Till didn’t realize what he had done
Till didn’t realize that two men with a gun,
Had over heard and were nearby
No messin’ with a white guy.
Night fell,
And this I must tell.

Quiet down my children
Quiet down my folks.

That those angry white men came,
Their raging fury difficult to tame,
They knock on the door and grabbed the boy,
Marched Emmett Till like a rag toy.
Down to the car he was dragged to the car
Thrown in but didn’t go far for he was killed
Shot in the head
Though strong willed
Forced out of bed.
Burned and choked
Life sucked,
The whole town of money was aware of Till’s in
But hadn’t discovered the body
But it was found
Including the murderers
But Till was no longer in life
Shot in the head and stabbed with a knife.
A trial took place
In a segregated court,

A yes my children,
A yes my folks.

The trial began as an unexpected man arrived
He was a black man
A Congessman from the North
From he came forth
Charles Diggs
He came to help with the northern boys case
But was placed in a corner because of his race.
Diggs was brave,
Diggs was determined,
For three whole days the case carried on
The black side panic
The white side yawn,
The tension was building in the court,
The days were long
But the decision was short,
In two hours the killers were found innocent.

You hear my children,
You hear my folks.

No guilt, no crime
Emmett Till was only worth a dime
To them white folks
To them the blacks were only jokes
The victim’s coffin was left open
Because of his mother’s wanting,
So that his spirit could be haunting
the people in the town of Money
to see their errors
and mistakes
to see the terrors
for goodness sake.
A soul remained
Opening the eyes of the United states
To see how there fates would be
If the boy
If he,
Had lived.

And that my children,
And that my folks,

Is the story of sadness,
The story of grief,
The story of Emmett Till