When a White girl marries a Negro, her sun of life goes down;
glaring spots of sin appear on her wedding gown.
White and Black men stand aghast, while viewing this strange role
and mutter "they will wreck themselves, and damn each other's soul."

They know a carnivorous bug has crept into her brain
and she gave away her self respect, which left her half insane.
Now all her racial pride has flown beyond redemption's fold,
and she begins life's saddest tale that ever was told.

Three days and nights she felt black lips pressed smug against her own;
on the fourth, her troubled soul let out a frightful groan.
So the weeks and months flew by, and then a baby came.
She looked at it with tearful eyes and hung her head with shame.

Then she dreamed of other days, sweet girlhood days gone by;
of the White friends left behind, and so we hear her cry,
"Oh, could I turn life's pendulum backward a few short years,
I would not bear this cross today nor shed these bitter tears."

My baby would be white as snow, and sleep upon my breast,
like a fledgling robin that slumbers in its nest.
While now, oh God, my mongrel child just whimpers through the night,
till in my sleepless dreams I scream, "Not White; oh God, not White!"

I stagger through my days, far from God's love and grace,
and now I know no black face can take a White man's place.
My offspring shall be mongrel bred. Their dark skin shall forever remain.
God, with all His power, cannot remove the stain.

I sold my birthright for a mess, I mixed my White-born blood with Black,
and so I languish here bogged down in sorrow.
Though God may grant me pardon, I never can retrace
my footsteps down life's narrow road, back to the White man's race.

So now I groan, it might have been, had racial pride been mine:
today I'd hug a pure White child and call him half divine.
I'd lift him up before the world and praise his father's name,
while now my baby's mongrel face reminds me of my shame.

All other crimes may be forgiven when prayer its power fulfills;
the scheming crook may find new hope, and even the man who kills.
All my prayers can never clear my baby's mongrel skin,
nor make him White as driven snow, nor cleanse my soul of sin.

I was my father's future hope, my mother's joy and pride,
but I got lost on life's dark road, and there my spirit died.
I smeared my all White heritage and left the White man's track.
Now my descendants, for all time, shall be black.

I try to hide from all the stars, the moon and setting sun;
for all mankind of my White race condemn what I have done.
I tremble and my teardrops flow, I pray in vain
for never more shall I be one with my White race again.

And so, dark clouds above me roll, deep waters crash below.
I sink and reap what I have sown and drink my cup of woe.
My mother sleeps deep in her grave, my dad lies at her side.
For both were crushed when I became a Negro's common bride.

Now should I decide to leave him, where could I choose to go?
My misspent life will follow me like footprints in the snow.
Before me lie dark jungles where paramours seek prey;
behind me death's deep whispering, "I am the only way."

This Black and White prenatal mess; this racial suicide
is forbidden by the Bible law. Where is the White man's racial pride?
Then, never again, forever, shall tales like mine unfold,
with all its shame and sadness, that ever yet was told.