Land grants from the Throne, gifts like beautiful cruel Grace
creating Southern Aristocracy
Plantations seemingly solid as stone
Palatial Mansion Everests
Resting along wide Tannic Rivers.
Avenues of Ancient Live Oaks
Implying lazy Interminable Virtue
Robot-like House Slaves, children of African Princes
starched in black and white Livery
Others like muddy wine dancers toil
in the Midas Grain
Daylight ’til the Evening return to
Whitewashed dwellings where
Children play like happy flames in the Firey Dust.
Gentile ladies with sugar squares drip Absinthe
While Brightly Head-wrapped African Queens cook.
Their starched menfolk serve the Masters
In Leathered rooms,
Smokey with tobacco and Hashish.
Generations like ours hold fast to custom and
More than a trace memory remains
in Families owning that evil Evolution.
A privilege among us and A shame to us born with silver spoons.