The child of those moans on the field

Where the sweat poured down

Acres of victims in pain

Babe of the spiritual

First born of blues

It sped up and we

Started to dance

And play with it

Have fun with it

Smoke out and

Dance all night

From the cats

Who refused

To record hits

Fearing theft

To those who

Invent today

I can hear it

In every run

When I sing

In every beat

Syncopated

In every rap

Every rhyme

Gospel song

Note held on

The rules are followed

And they are gone