Sometimes I Feel Like Nothin,' Somethin' Throwed

A Lean, Loose-jointed Negro Had Commenced Plunking A Guitar Beside Me While I Slept. His Clothes Were Rags; His Feet Peeped Out Of His Shoes. His Face Had On It Some Of The Sadness Of The Ages. As He Played, He Pressed A Knife On The Strings Of The Guitar In A Manner Popularized By Hawaiian Guitarists Who Used Steel Bars. The Effect Was Unforgettable.

If My Serenade Of Song And Story Should Serve As A Pillow For Some Composer's Head, As Yet Perhaps Unborn, To Dream And Build On Our Fond Melodies In His Tomorrow, I Have Not Labored In Vain.

You'll Never Miss The Water 'til The Well Runs Dry.

You Can Never Tell What's In A Woman's Mind, And If She's From Harlem, There's No Use O' Tryin

You've Got To Appreciate The Things That Come From The Art Of The Negro And From The Heart Of The Man Farthest Down.