Swing Low
They wanna know why I done it.
You wanna know why I done it.
Ever since I been in here
they been pesterin’ me ’bout
Why, Why, Why
Well hell.
If I knowed why’d I done it,
then I wouldn’t be sittin’ right here
in this damn cell.
Look.
All I know is:
when I saw that man,
an’ that woman,
an’ them six childjurn of theirs,
all dressed up in they’s Sunday best,
ever one of em looking fed an’
happy as a pig in shit…
It just set somethin’ off in me.
An’ that little bitty ol’ house,
that wasn’t fit for even
a damn ol’ chicken pen,
sittin’ out there all alone,
‘mongst all them damned fields.
I swear.
It’s as if that house was built
just so this’d happen:
So their God,
in his infinite fucking wisdom,
could set that family on the
path to Heaven,
“in his kindness”.
You know,
I set up in that attic an’
it was like I had all
the time in the world,
just me an’ my ax,
not thinkin’ a damn thang…
Just knowin’.
I wonder you reckon?
if they is up there?
being tended to by them angels?
That’s what daddy’d say:
“The Lord works in mysterious ways”.
A damned fools answer
if they ever was one.
