Baby got soul

It was Nina Simone
who carried me home
wrapped like a babe
tucked up in her tone
and though the hard day wore
me back to my bones
I cried “Lawd have mercy,
on Misses Simone!”

Then strange as it seems
it was old Al Green
who stitched me on up,
like a zip down the seams,
and though I wrung my hands dry
of my washed out dreams
I shook my tail feathers
to that smooth Al Green.

Hot damn Jimmy Reed!
In my hour of need
your blues met mine
and stopped up the bleed
of a heart so bruised
a brutha wouldn’t believe,
but maybe you would
Jimmy no-bass Reed.

Oohwee Etta James!
I’ll say it again
ain’t a sistuh on earth
who croons with a stain
on her voice, on her soul
from the hurt and the pain
then carries the broken
like you Misses James.

Soul sistas and bruthas
I ain’t found no others
who pick me back up
when life socks me another
knock, kick, punch, or worse
to bring me on down,
tempting my shoulders to curl
and my smile to frown
so Simone, Green, Reed
and lest we forget, James,
hallelujah for your songs
and the hope you gave!

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