A REFUGE FOR POETS WHO WRITE IN THE LYRIC TRADITION,
WITH RHYME AND METER, WITH OR WITHOUT MUSIC
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BALLAD OF THE RIVER HARLEM
I’ve been living with only a song to spare
And having myself a good time,
For the friendliest folks that ever I’ve known
Are the ones who haven’t a dime, Lord,
The ones who haven’t a dime.
When you see a poor man roam through your town,
Don’t you just gape and stare,
‘Cause for every man who’s down on his luck
There’s a crook who helped put him there, Lord,
A crook who helped put him there.
If you think it’s every man for himself,
Then brother, I’ve got news:
If life’s mistreating your fellow man,
Then its’ doing the same thing to you, Lord,
It’s doing the same thing to you.
You’ve got to be able to handle it all,
And to take it as it comes.
There’s a lot of hard times going down,
And you’re bound to catch you some, Lord,
You’re bound to catch you some.
And don’t you be afraid to answer
When you hear a lonely voice call.
If you ain’t got friendship to offer,
Then you ain’t got nothing at all, Lord,
You ain’t got nothing at all.
If you think it’s every man for himself,
Then brother, I’ve got news:
If life’s mistreating your fellow man,
Then its’ doing the same thing to you, Lord,
It’s doing the same thing to you.
Manhattan, New York, 1971
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