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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=579755" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Three yards up the road</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">When your great-great-Grandmother<br>sold across the brush of cotton<br>was singing songs of Africa<br>and working under lash and lock<br>and yoke the white man slaver set<br>the child in England shivered</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Silently as Dada died or Mama died<br>she moved to separation from her own<br>became a Parish burden picking oakum<br>was sold to northern mills in groups of slaves<br>locked inside forbidding winter temples<br>stocking dross the Parish sent away</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When your great-great-Grandmother<br>sold by stronger tribes in Africa<br>to make them rich and build their acres<br>to feed the rich man's people hunger<br>passing cramped across the ocean<br>watching daily deaths - or hourly</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the child in England shivered<br>Wearing worn out summer clothing<br>shoeless in the depths of winter<br>working fourteen hours unstopping<br>Hunger semi-slaked by gruel slops<br>in mills where childhood took a beating</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When your great-great-Grandmother<br>had her babies traded from her<br>on plantations where the working time was long<br>and overseers beat and sometimes killed<br>and raped and pillaged every woman<br>drunken eyes could squander</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the beaten child devoid of mother<br>dragged a body dwarfed by starving<br>mis-shapen from the broken bones untreated<br>locked inside her working prison<br>sealed at night with others in a tomb <br>where straw - and other ill-used bodies - comforted</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And you can say and lift your head<br>When my great-great-Grandmother <br>was taken out of Africa by white men<br>she ceased her African-African slavery<br>began her slavery to white men<br>Then you turn and call me racist</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I have nothing more to say<br>except my great-great-Grandmother<br>having parents dead or starving<br>was a burden on the Parish of her birth<br>which sold her into untold desolation<br>in a country which pretended to be kind<br>and left her slave and starving<br>as a cog inside an Empire<br>where the rich grew richer still<br>on the blood of starving children<br>out of Africa or three yards up the road</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Charlotte+Peters+Rock">Charlotte Peters Rock</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=579755" data-title="Three yards up the road de Charlotte Peters Rock" data-description="When your great-great-Grandmother
sold across the brush of cotton
was singing songs of Africa
and working under lash and lock
and yoke the white man slaver set
the child in England shivered

Silently as Dada died or Mama died
she moved to separati..."></div>
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