Some clichty folks <br />don't know the facts, <br />posin' and preenin' <br />and puttin' on acts, <br />stretchin' their backs. <br /> <br />They move into condos <br />up over the ranks, <br />pawn their souls <br />to the local banks. <br />Buying big cars <br />they can't afford, <br />ridin' around town <br />actin' bored. <br /> <br />If they want to learn how to live life right <br />they ought to study me on Saturday night. <br /> <br />My job at the plant <br />ain't the biggest bet, <br />but I pay my bills <br />and stay out of debt. <br />I get my hair done <br />for my own self's sake, <br />so I don't have to pick <br />and I don't have to rake. <br /> <br />Take the church money out <br />and head cross town <br />to my friend girl's house <br />where we plan our round. <br />We meet our men and go to a joint <br />where the music is blue <br />and to the point. <br /> <br />Folks write about me. <br />They just can't see <br />how I work all week <br />at the factory. <br />Then get spruced up <br />and laugh and dance <br />And turn away from worry <br />with sassy glance. <br /> <br />They accuse me of livin' <br />from day to day, <br />but who are they kiddin'? <br />So are they. <br /> <br />My life ain't heaven <br />but it sure ain't hell. <br />I'm not on top <br />but I call it swell <br />if I'm able to work <br />and get paid right <br />and have the luck to be Black <br />on a Saturday night.<br /><br />Maya Angelou<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/weekend-glory/
