Fine Clothes to the Jew/Ruby Brown

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RUBY BROWN
She was young and beautifulAnd golden like the sunshineThat warmed her body.And because she was coloredMayville had no place to offer her,Nor fuel for the clean flame of joyThat tried to burn within her soul.
One day,Sitting on old Mrs. Latham's back porchPolishing the silver,She asked herself two questionsAnd they ran something like this:What can a colored girl doOn the money from a white woman's kitchen?And ain't there any joy in this town?
Now the streets down by the riverKnow more about this pretty Ruby Brown,And the sinister shuttered houses of the bottomsHold a yellow girlSeeking an answer to her questions.The good church folk do not mentionHer name any more.
But the white men,Habitués of the high shuttered houses,Pay more money to her nowThan they ever did before,When she worked in their kitchens.
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