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Written by: Barry P. Foley
Copyright © 01 Jul 2021

It’s called the Red Summer, the year of 1919
Red blood spilled by the black man, time and time again
Not found in our history books, in the days of my youth
Critical Race Theory, I just call it the truth

There were over 40 race riots across this great land
Most every case these were started by the white man
Angry mobs, shot, hung and burned the Negro homes at will
With no protection by the law, the, Negro was left to his skill

It started in Georgia, in the early part of spring
On to West Virginia, South Caroline, and back to Georgia again
But not just in the South, as one might suspect
There were riots in Maryland, Indiana and even Connecticut

Time after time, the root cause was clear
Keep the Negro in his place, keep his heart filled with fear
Lincoln may have set them free, but they best not get bold
The white man is still in charge, they’ll do as they’re told

Nearly a thousand Negros died, 83 at the end of a rope
Keeping the white man’s law and order, destroying any ounce of hope
They will never be our equal, not in my land of the free
It was just pure hate of the Negro, but let’s keep that ‘tween you and me

The Red Summer of 19, the white man’s secret is out
History can be a bitch, with books written with clout
Find yourself feeling anger or your heart is filled with shame
You might now understand, how Black Lives Matter got its name


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