My Neighbor, Mr. Browne

I never cease to be amazed at my neighbor, Samson Browne,
The tomatoes from his garden are the biggest ones around.
He always leaves a basketful, much more than I can use,
But I know they're from his hands 'n heart, and not to be refused.

Now Mr. Sam is Black, you know, and very dark at that,
He putters 'round in overalls, a white shirt, tie 'n hat.
He'll shake hands with all the men, with girls he'll wink and flirt,
When people ask his age he'll say, “I'm nearly old as dirt!”

One day I saw him walkin' by, so I asked him if he'd sit,
An' have a bite o' lunch with me, and maybe talk a bit.
So we were eatin' beans with ham, cornbread and icy tea,
He took a sip, sat down his glass, and then he said to me:

“You's the first white man that's ever had me eatin' in his home,”
I hadn't known, but I could sense the sadness in his tone.
So then I asked him 'bout his life, and how he's kept his smile,
And I wondered if he'd talk to me…he was quiet for a while.

He said, “It's God who put me on this earth, and gave me this here skin,
An' it's Him I'll face when I'm called home, an' not my fellow men.
I just do what I know is right, it's God I need to please,
Cause He'll be judgin' by my heart, not the color that He sees.”

“There's some don't see me as a man, so there's no need to try,
To live my life as they sees fit, just to fuel their foolish pride.
I know that their harsh words an' deeds were all passed down to them,
In another time an' a different place, we might have all been friends.”

“So, John,” he said, an' his voice was low as he looked up from the plate,
“They can do a lot to make me love, but they can't make me hate.
That flame of hate will burn away the soul God put inside,
I'll let them walk that lower road, I much prefer the high.”