Stories are never always true
But sometimes they partly are
So I am going to make one up
About me and you

Mama allow me to weep
Whilst you work for me
It may break your back
But it breaks my heart to see

And I’m going to extend this hand
Out of respect, not out of pity
That I may one day break my back
For you to see

That we shall stand at a village dance
And smile as we face each other
While your baby bounces on your back
And people whisper scandal to each other

That a white man may dance with another
Whilst believing that he can actually dance
My hope is that you truly do
May this story be at least partly true

(this is my prayer and wish for today Mama, about me and you)