Aunt Sue has a head full of stories. 
Aunt Sue has a whole heart full of stories. 
Summer nights on the front porch 
Aunt Sue cuddles a brown-faced child to her bosom 
And tells him stories. 

Black slaves 
Working in the hot sun, 
And black slaves 
Walking in the dewy night, 
And black slaves 
Singing sorrow songs on the banks of a mighty river 
Mingle themselves softly 
In the flow of old Aunt Sue's voice, 
Mingle themselves softly 
In the dark shadows that cross and recross 
Aunt Sue's stories. 

And the dark-faced child, listening, 
Knows that Aunt Sue's stories are real stories. 
He knows that Aunt Sue never got her stories 
Out of any book at all, 
But that they came 
Right out of her own life. 

The dark-faced child is quiet 
Of a summer night 
Listening to Aunt Sue's stories.


 = Eye'z