This mule ain’t from Moscow. This mule ain’t from the South. But this mule's had some learnin' Mostly mouth-to-mouth.
This mule could be called stubborn, and lazy, But in a clever sorta’ way This mule could be workin’, waitin’ and learnin’ and plannin’ For a sacred kind of day- A day when burnin’ sticks and crosses Is not mere child’s play, But a madman in his most incandescent bloom Whose lover’s soul is imperfection, in its most lustrous groom.
So stand, fast young Romeo Soothe in contemplation Thy burning whole and aching thigh Your stubbornness is ever-living And cruel anxiety is about to die.
Freedom for your daddy Freedom for your momma Freedom for your brothers and sisters But no freedom for me.
Freedom for your daddy’s daddy Freedom for your momma’s momma Freedom for your brothers and sisters But no freedom for me.
Freedom for your daddy’s daddy Freedom for your momma’s momma Freedom for your brothers and sisters But no freedom for me.