AN ANTEBELLUM ROMANCE OF THE OLD SOUTH
In the Deep South there is a Black Buck,
He farms cotton, with black arms so strong,
The White masters wife spies on him long,
Thinking, "I bet he has a Big Black horse cock."
She takes him one night in her barn,
Just a White wife, and a strong big Black Buck,
"Breed me you Negro, harvest my womb!"
He never knew cotton came with poon.
She says goodnight to her black lover
And puts on her pretty blue dress.
On the surface a rich Southern lady,
Underneath she's a hot, sticky mess.
She guiltily lies by her husband,
And hearing him drunkenly snore,
She finds that she just can't get sleepy,
So sneaks out to get her some more.
Her Negro has brought him two buddies,
"They'll keep watch so no-one can see."
By the time she comes staggering home in the dawn,
She's been fucked several times by all three.
She spends the next day in her bedroom.
"You're ill." "No, I just need a walk"
"I reckon you're working too hard, Dear."
She reckons she needs more black cock.
Her walk takes her out to the field
Her Negroes are working that day;
They grin (they remember her naked):
"I thought you boys might want to play."
They follow her to an outbuilding
(Her three men have now become seven),
And she spends the next several hours
In African sexual heaven.
"I thank you, Ma'am, for all your kindness;
This surely beats driving the plow,
And... Oh God, that's good... You so fine, girl...
Hey, Cassius, you take her now!"
"You show quite an interest in farming,
That's something I only can praise.
It's right that a wife helps her husband"
She nods, in a sexual daze.
She works the men hard all that summer,
A help for her husband indeed;
She expertly grows black erections
And serves as a bed for black seed.
"There's straw on the back of your dress, girl,
It looks like you fell on your ass";
She guiltily blushes in silence;
He'd never addressed her so crass.
"You sneaked out tonight for two hours."
"I had to attend that sick colt."
"The colt that died early this morning?"
He glares: she sits up with a jolt.
"I don't want you talking to negroes
For them all that women are for
Is serving their basest desires,
And I won't have my wife called a whore."
Deep stricken, she breaks down in sobbing,
And, finally caught up in her lies,
She feels both devil and angel:
Her tearful face, her sticky thighs.
She truly regrets her behavior,
And knows it's a terrible sin,
Yet smiles recalling the feeling
Of black lovers' cocks sliding in.
"Don't fret when the master gets ornery,
He fumes, but he never stays sore.
When he hears that you carry his baby,
Why, he'll love you like never before."
"I reckon you're two months along, Ma'am;
A woman like me, I can tell.
Why, Mistress, you've gone deathly pale!"
"Oh Jemmy, I'm going to Hell."
She stays up all night in sheer terror,
Imagining horrible scenes,
But when morning comes, she has vanished;
Some say she lives in New Orleans.
Some say that she runs a fine whorehouse,
What Cajuns call un bon bordel;
Her girls serve the wealthy white gentry,
And she takes the black clientele.
For whites, there are luxury chambers,
With women and music and wine;
For blacks, at the back there's a doorway,
And some say there's always a line.
Time passes, it's twenty years later
And gallons of semen have flowed
Down, through, every part of this lady,
And, man, she's loved every damn load!
Let's watch her enjoy an orgasm
With three negroes, one in each hole:
Ask any black man in the Quarter,
He'll tell you the woman's got soul.
And meanwhile on the plantation,
A broken man leads a sad life;
They say that his only amusement
Is watching blacks fuck his new wife.
In the Deep South there is a Black Buck,
He farms cotton, with black arms so strong,
The White masters wife spies on him long,
Thinking, "I bet he has a Big Black horse cock."
She takes him one night in her barn,
Just a White wife, and a strong big Black Buck,
"Breed me you Negro, harvest my womb!"
He never knew cotton came with poon.
She says goodnight to her black lover
And puts on her pretty blue dress.
On the surface a rich Southern lady,
Underneath she's a hot, sticky mess.
She guiltily lies by her husband,
And hearing him drunkenly snore,
She finds that she just can't get sleepy,
So sneaks out to get her some more.
Her Negro has brought him two buddies,
"They'll keep watch so no-one can see."
By the time she comes staggering home in the dawn,
She's been fucked several times by all three.
She spends the next day in her bedroom.
"You're ill." "No, I just need a walk"
"I reckon you're working too hard, Dear."
She reckons she needs more black cock.
Her walk takes her out to the field
Her Negroes are working that day;
They grin (they remember her naked):
"I thought you boys might want to play."
They follow her to an outbuilding
(Her three men have now become seven),
And she spends the next several hours
In African sexual heaven.
"I thank you, Ma'am, for all your kindness;
This surely beats driving the plow,
And... Oh God, that's good... You so fine, girl...
Hey, Cassius, you take her now!"
"You show quite an interest in farming,
That's something I only can praise.
It's right that a wife helps her husband"
She nods, in a sexual daze.
She works the men hard all that summer,
A help for her husband indeed;
She expertly grows black erections
And serves as a bed for black seed.
"There's straw on the back of your dress, girl,
It looks like you fell on your ass";
She guiltily blushes in silence;
He'd never addressed her so crass.
"You sneaked out tonight for two hours."
"I had to attend that sick colt."
"The colt that died early this morning?"
He glares: she sits up with a jolt.
"I don't want you talking to negroes
For them all that women are for
Is serving their basest desires,
And I won't have my wife called a whore."
Deep stricken, she breaks down in sobbing,
And, finally caught up in her lies,
She feels both devil and angel:
Her tearful face, her sticky thighs.
She truly regrets her behavior,
And knows it's a terrible sin,
Yet smiles recalling the feeling
Of black lovers' cocks sliding in.
"Don't fret when the master gets ornery,
He fumes, but he never stays sore.
When he hears that you carry his baby,
Why, he'll love you like never before."
"I reckon you're two months along, Ma'am;
A woman like me, I can tell.
Why, Mistress, you've gone deathly pale!"
"Oh Jemmy, I'm going to Hell."
She stays up all night in sheer terror,
Imagining horrible scenes,
But when morning comes, she has vanished;
Some say she lives in New Orleans.
Some say that she runs a fine whorehouse,
What Cajuns call un bon bordel;
Her girls serve the wealthy white gentry,
And she takes the black clientele.
For whites, there are luxury chambers,
With women and music and wine;
For blacks, at the back there's a doorway,
And some say there's always a line.
Time passes, it's twenty years later
And gallons of semen have flowed
Down, through, every part of this lady,
And, man, she's loved every damn load!
Let's watch her enjoy an orgasm
With three negroes, one in each hole:
Ask any black man in the Quarter,
He'll tell you the woman's got soul.
And meanwhile on the plantation,
A broken man leads a sad life;
They say that his only amusement
Is watching blacks fuck his new wife.
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