Ontwaken met een kleurtje
25 oktober 2009Het zit me toch niet lekker, al die reacties waarover ik gisteren schreef. Hoe groot is de onvrede in Nederland? Hoe vruchtbaar is de voedingsbodem voor eng rechts? Ik pak een ouwe plaat van Ludichrist en brul hard mee.
Fire at the firehouse
Hey boys and girls come and gather round,
And I’ll sing ya little ditty bout ol Joe Bob.
Now ol Joe Bob’s not around today,
But his sprit lives on,
I’m sorry to say.
Joe Bob was a good ol’ boy,
Dressed in sheets, a rope his toy.
Thought he was tough – a real man,
A Knight of the Ku Klux Klan.
It made him sick when people claimed;
“It’s only skin we’re all the same”
Then one night he hit the sack,
When he woke up he was black.
Was no joke, was no dream,
Joe Bob Black could only scream;
“Oh my God! Holy Shit!”
“Oh sweet Jesus won’tcha look at me,
Its like a fire at the firehouse,
How could this be?
I’m like a doctor who get cancer
Lord hear my prayers
There’s a fire at the firehouse,
And its not fair!”
Now Joe Bob, he was scared
And the KKK was mad.
So he tried to explain;
“It’s only skin, I’m still the same.”
They hung Joe Bob from a tree.
@
Foto KKK: American Memory