Cane Field Ledger

Ohhh, write it down Old man Josiah cut the cane from dark to dark Six shillings Friday and a whip-crack remark Hands like a riverbed, cracked and dry Never once him let the overseer see him cry Boss man keep a ledger with a lock and key Every drop of sweat turn to company money But the ledger don't own him, no Ink can't hold what the soul must grow Count your coin till your counting done Him name still standing when the book is gone Grandson find that ledger in a parish hall Yellow pages rotting by the schoolhouse wall Read each name out loud, let the whole room hear Eighteen hundred names that nobody held dear Now the children sing them, every single line Roll call for the people from the old cane line But the ledger don't own him, no Ink can't hold what the soul must grow Count your coin till your counting done Him name still standing when the book is gone Tell me who keep the true account Tell me who weigh the full amount Not the bank, not the king, not the man upon the hill It's the ones who remember, and we remember still Josiah, Josiah Mercy, Bartholomew, Ruth Every name, every name Write it down