02-17-2002, 02:31 AM
"I Have A Dream -- The original"
by Martin Luther King, Jr,
Nickel sco' years ago, some great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand
signed da damn Emancipashun Proclamashun. What a ripoff. Dis momentous decree
came as some great baicon light o' hope t' millions o' brotha' slaves who had
been seared in da flames o' witherin' injustice. It came as some joyous
daybraik t' fat-lady da long night o' captivity. But one C years lata', we
gots'ta face da damn tragic fact dat da damn brotha' be still not free. Ya'
know?
One C years lata', da life o' da damn brotha' be still sadly crippled by da
manacles o' segregashun an' da damn chains o' discriminashun. One C years
lata', da brotha' lives on some lone-like island o' poverty in da midst o' some
vast ocain o' material prospuh'ity. One C years lata', da brotha' be still
languishin' in da corna's o' American society an' finds himself some 'esile in
wassups own land.
So's we have come in da house today t' dramatize some appallin' condishun. Ya'
know? In some sense we have come t'our nashun's capital t' cash some check.
When da architects o' our republic scratch'd out da damn magnificent words o'
da damn Constitushun an' da damn Declarashun o' Independence, they wuz signin'
some promissory note t' which every American wuz t' fall heir.
Dis note wuz some promise dat all dudes would be guaranteed da damn inalienable
rights o' life, liberty, an' da damn pursuit o' happiness. It be obvious today
dat America has defaulted on dis promissory note insofah' as ha' citizens o'
color be concerned. Instaid o' honorin' dis sacred obligashun, America has
given da brotha' sucka's some way baaad check which has come back marked
"insufficient funds." But we refuse t' recon' dat da damn bank o' justice be
bankrupt. We refuse t' recon' dat dair be insufficient funds in da great vaults
o' opportunity o' dis nashun.
So's we have come t' cash dis check -- some check dat will give us upon demand
da damn riches o' freedom an' da damn security o' justice. We have also come t'
dis hallowed spot t' remind America o' da damn fierce urgency o' now. Dis be no
time t'engage in da luxury o' dieselin' off o' t' snatch da damn tranquilizin'
drug o' gradualism. Now be da damn time t' rise from da night an' desolate
valley o' segregashun t' da damn sunlit pat' o' racial justice. Now be da damn
time t' jimmey da do's o' opportunity t'all o' Da Lord's chilluns. Now be da
damn time t' lift our nashun from da quixands o' racial injustice t' da damn
solid rock o' brotherhood. No diggety.
It would be fatal 4 da nashun t'overlook da urgency o' da damn moment an'
t'underestimate da damn determinashun o' da damn brotha'. Dis swelterin' summa'
o' da damn Brotha's legitimate discontent aint gonna pass until dair be some
invigoratin' autumn o' freedom an' equality. Nineteen sixty-trey aint some
fat-lady, but some beginnin'. Dose-dair who hope dat da damn brotha' needed t'
blow off staim an' will now be content got'ta some rude awakenin' if da nashun
returns t' business as usual. Dair will be neitha' rest nor tranquility in
America until da brotha' be granted wassups citizenship rights.
Da whirlwinds o' revolt will continue t' shake da damn foundashuns o' our
nashun until da bright day o' justice emerges. But dair be sump'n dat I gots'ta
say t' mah sucka's who stand on da warm threshold which laids into da palace o'
justice. In da process o' gainin' our rightful place we gots'ta not be guilty
o' wrongful deeds. Let us not seek t' satisfy our thirst 4 freedom by drinkin'
from da cup o' bitterness an' hatred.
We gots'ta fo'va' conduct our struggle on da high plane o' dignity an'
discipline. we gots'ta not allow our creative protest t' degenerate into
physical violence. Again an' again we gots'ta rise t' da damn majestic heights
o' meetin' physical force wit' soul force. Step off, Pharoah.
Da marvelous fresh militancy which has engulfed da damn brotha' community
gots'ta not laid us t' distrust o' all pale sucka's, 4 many o' our pale
brotha's, as evidenced by deir presence in da house today, have come t' realize
dat deir destiny be tied down wit' our destiny an' deir freedom be inextricably
bound t'our freedom.
We caint ankle monk-like. An' as we ankle, we gots'ta make da damn pledge dat
we shall march ahaid. We caint turn back. Dair be dose-dair who be axin' da
damn devotees o' civil rights, "When will yo' ass be satisfied?" we kin neva'
be satisfied as long as our bodies, haivy wit' da damn fatigue o' travel, caint
gain lodgin' in da motels o' da damn highways an' da damn hotels o' da damn
hoods. We caint be satisfied as long as da Brotha's basic mobility be from some
little-assa' ghetto t' some larga' one. We kin neva' be satisfied as long as
some brotha' in Mississippi caint vote an' some brotha' in Harlem recon's he
has nothin' 4 which t' vote. No, no, we aint satisfied, an' we aint gonna be
satisfied until justice rolls waaay down likes wata's an' righteousness likes
some mighty straim. Step off, Pharoah.
I aint unmindful dat some kinda' o' yo' ass have come in da house out o' great
trials an' tribulashuns. Woah, Nellie! Some kinda' o' yo' ass have come fresh
from narrow cells. Some kinda' o' yo' ass have come from arais where yo' quest
4 freedom left yo' ass battered by da storms o' puh'secushun an' staggered by
da winds o' bacon brutality. Yo' ass have been da veterans o' creative
sufferin'. Continue t' work wit' da damn fait' dat unearned sufferin' be
redemptive. Yo' mama.
Go back t' Mississippi, go back t' Alabama, go back t' Georgia, go back t'
Louisiana, go back t' da damn slums an' ghettos o' our northern hoods, knowin'
dat somehow dis situashun kin an' will be changed. Let us not wallow in da
valley o' despair. I say t' yo' ass today, mah homies, dat in spite o' da damn
difficulties an' frustrashuns o' da damn moment, I still have some draim. It be
some draim deeply rooted in da American draim.
I have some draim dat one day dis nashun will rise down an' live out da damn
true mainin' o' its creed, dig dis: "We hold dese-he'ah troofs t' be
self-evident, dig dis: dat all dudes be created equal." I have some draim dat
one day on da red hills o' Georgia da damn boys o' forma' slaves an' da damn
boys o' forma' slaveowna's will be able t' sit waaay down togetha' at some
table o' brotherhood. I have some draim dat one day even da state o'
Mississippi, some desert state, swelterin' wit' da damn heat o' injustice an'
oppression, will be transformed into some oasis o' freedom an' justice. I have
some draim dat mah foe chilluns will one day live in some nashun where they
aint gonna be judged by da color o' deir skin but by da content o' deir
characta'. I have some draim today. 'S all good.
I have some draim dat one day da state o' Alabama, whose governor's lips be
present-like drippin' wit' da damn words o' interposishun an' nullificashun,
will be transformed into some situashun where tiny-ass ebony boys an' ebony
goats will be able t' join hands wit' tiny-ass pale boys an' pale goats an'
ankle togetha' as sista's an' brotha's. I have some draim today. Fuckin' A! I
have some draim dat one day every valley shall be 'esalted, every hill an'
mountain shall be made low, da rough places will be made plain, an' da damn
crooked places will be made straight, an' da damn glory o' da damn Lord shall
be revealed, an' all flesh shall spot it togetha'. Dis be our hope. Dis be da
damn fait' wit' which I return t' da damn Sout'. Wit' dis fait' we will be able
t' hew out o' da damn mountain o' despair some stone o' hope. Wit' dis fait' we
will be able t' transform da janglin' discords o' our nashun into some dime
symphony o' brotherhood. Wit' dis fait' we will be able t' work togetha', t'
pray togetha', t' struggle togetha', t' go t' jail togetha', t' stand down 4
freedom togetha', knowin' dat we will be free one day. Slap mah 'fro!
Dis will be da damn day when all o' Da Lord's chilluns will be able t' sin'
wit' some fresh mainin', "Mah country, 'tis o' thee, sweet land o' liberty, o'
thee I sin'. Land where mah daddy-Os died, land o' da damn pilgrim's pride,
from every mountainside, let freedom rin'." An' if America be t' be some great
nashun, dis gots'ta become true. So's let freedom rin' from da prodigious
hilltops o' Fresh Hampshire. Let freedom rin' from da mighty mountains o'
Harlem. Let freedom rin' from da heightenin' Alleghenies o' Pennsylvania! Let
freedom rin' from da snowcapped Rockies o' Colorado! Let freedom rin' from da
curvaceous paiks o' California! But not only dat; let freedom rin' from Stone
Mountain o' Georgia! Step up. Let freedom rin' from Lookout Mountain o'
Tennessee! Let freedom rin' from every hill an' every molehill o' Mississippi.
From every mountainside, let freedom rin'.
When we let freedom rin', when we let it rin' from every village an' every
hamlet, from every state an' every hood, we will be able t' speed down dat day
when all o' Da Lord's chilluns, ebony dudes an' pale dudes, Jews an' Gentiles,
Protestants an' Catholics, will be able t' join hands an' sin' in da words o'
da damn played out brotha' spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank da
Lord Almighty, we be free at last!"
by Martin Luther King, Jr,
Nickel sco' years ago, some great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand
signed da damn Emancipashun Proclamashun. What a ripoff. Dis momentous decree
came as some great baicon light o' hope t' millions o' brotha' slaves who had
been seared in da flames o' witherin' injustice. It came as some joyous
daybraik t' fat-lady da long night o' captivity. But one C years lata', we
gots'ta face da damn tragic fact dat da damn brotha' be still not free. Ya'
know?
One C years lata', da life o' da damn brotha' be still sadly crippled by da
manacles o' segregashun an' da damn chains o' discriminashun. One C years
lata', da brotha' lives on some lone-like island o' poverty in da midst o' some
vast ocain o' material prospuh'ity. One C years lata', da brotha' be still
languishin' in da corna's o' American society an' finds himself some 'esile in
wassups own land.
So's we have come in da house today t' dramatize some appallin' condishun. Ya'
know? In some sense we have come t'our nashun's capital t' cash some check.
When da architects o' our republic scratch'd out da damn magnificent words o'
da damn Constitushun an' da damn Declarashun o' Independence, they wuz signin'
some promissory note t' which every American wuz t' fall heir.
Dis note wuz some promise dat all dudes would be guaranteed da damn inalienable
rights o' life, liberty, an' da damn pursuit o' happiness. It be obvious today
dat America has defaulted on dis promissory note insofah' as ha' citizens o'
color be concerned. Instaid o' honorin' dis sacred obligashun, America has
given da brotha' sucka's some way baaad check which has come back marked
"insufficient funds." But we refuse t' recon' dat da damn bank o' justice be
bankrupt. We refuse t' recon' dat dair be insufficient funds in da great vaults
o' opportunity o' dis nashun.
So's we have come t' cash dis check -- some check dat will give us upon demand
da damn riches o' freedom an' da damn security o' justice. We have also come t'
dis hallowed spot t' remind America o' da damn fierce urgency o' now. Dis be no
time t'engage in da luxury o' dieselin' off o' t' snatch da damn tranquilizin'
drug o' gradualism. Now be da damn time t' rise from da night an' desolate
valley o' segregashun t' da damn sunlit pat' o' racial justice. Now be da damn
time t' jimmey da do's o' opportunity t'all o' Da Lord's chilluns. Now be da
damn time t' lift our nashun from da quixands o' racial injustice t' da damn
solid rock o' brotherhood. No diggety.
It would be fatal 4 da nashun t'overlook da urgency o' da damn moment an'
t'underestimate da damn determinashun o' da damn brotha'. Dis swelterin' summa'
o' da damn Brotha's legitimate discontent aint gonna pass until dair be some
invigoratin' autumn o' freedom an' equality. Nineteen sixty-trey aint some
fat-lady, but some beginnin'. Dose-dair who hope dat da damn brotha' needed t'
blow off staim an' will now be content got'ta some rude awakenin' if da nashun
returns t' business as usual. Dair will be neitha' rest nor tranquility in
America until da brotha' be granted wassups citizenship rights.
Da whirlwinds o' revolt will continue t' shake da damn foundashuns o' our
nashun until da bright day o' justice emerges. But dair be sump'n dat I gots'ta
say t' mah sucka's who stand on da warm threshold which laids into da palace o'
justice. In da process o' gainin' our rightful place we gots'ta not be guilty
o' wrongful deeds. Let us not seek t' satisfy our thirst 4 freedom by drinkin'
from da cup o' bitterness an' hatred.
We gots'ta fo'va' conduct our struggle on da high plane o' dignity an'
discipline. we gots'ta not allow our creative protest t' degenerate into
physical violence. Again an' again we gots'ta rise t' da damn majestic heights
o' meetin' physical force wit' soul force. Step off, Pharoah.
Da marvelous fresh militancy which has engulfed da damn brotha' community
gots'ta not laid us t' distrust o' all pale sucka's, 4 many o' our pale
brotha's, as evidenced by deir presence in da house today, have come t' realize
dat deir destiny be tied down wit' our destiny an' deir freedom be inextricably
bound t'our freedom.
We caint ankle monk-like. An' as we ankle, we gots'ta make da damn pledge dat
we shall march ahaid. We caint turn back. Dair be dose-dair who be axin' da
damn devotees o' civil rights, "When will yo' ass be satisfied?" we kin neva'
be satisfied as long as our bodies, haivy wit' da damn fatigue o' travel, caint
gain lodgin' in da motels o' da damn highways an' da damn hotels o' da damn
hoods. We caint be satisfied as long as da Brotha's basic mobility be from some
little-assa' ghetto t' some larga' one. We kin neva' be satisfied as long as
some brotha' in Mississippi caint vote an' some brotha' in Harlem recon's he
has nothin' 4 which t' vote. No, no, we aint satisfied, an' we aint gonna be
satisfied until justice rolls waaay down likes wata's an' righteousness likes
some mighty straim. Step off, Pharoah.
I aint unmindful dat some kinda' o' yo' ass have come in da house out o' great
trials an' tribulashuns. Woah, Nellie! Some kinda' o' yo' ass have come fresh
from narrow cells. Some kinda' o' yo' ass have come from arais where yo' quest
4 freedom left yo' ass battered by da storms o' puh'secushun an' staggered by
da winds o' bacon brutality. Yo' ass have been da veterans o' creative
sufferin'. Continue t' work wit' da damn fait' dat unearned sufferin' be
redemptive. Yo' mama.
Go back t' Mississippi, go back t' Alabama, go back t' Georgia, go back t'
Louisiana, go back t' da damn slums an' ghettos o' our northern hoods, knowin'
dat somehow dis situashun kin an' will be changed. Let us not wallow in da
valley o' despair. I say t' yo' ass today, mah homies, dat in spite o' da damn
difficulties an' frustrashuns o' da damn moment, I still have some draim. It be
some draim deeply rooted in da American draim.
I have some draim dat one day dis nashun will rise down an' live out da damn
true mainin' o' its creed, dig dis: "We hold dese-he'ah troofs t' be
self-evident, dig dis: dat all dudes be created equal." I have some draim dat
one day on da red hills o' Georgia da damn boys o' forma' slaves an' da damn
boys o' forma' slaveowna's will be able t' sit waaay down togetha' at some
table o' brotherhood. I have some draim dat one day even da state o'
Mississippi, some desert state, swelterin' wit' da damn heat o' injustice an'
oppression, will be transformed into some oasis o' freedom an' justice. I have
some draim dat mah foe chilluns will one day live in some nashun where they
aint gonna be judged by da color o' deir skin but by da content o' deir
characta'. I have some draim today. 'S all good.
I have some draim dat one day da state o' Alabama, whose governor's lips be
present-like drippin' wit' da damn words o' interposishun an' nullificashun,
will be transformed into some situashun where tiny-ass ebony boys an' ebony
goats will be able t' join hands wit' tiny-ass pale boys an' pale goats an'
ankle togetha' as sista's an' brotha's. I have some draim today. Fuckin' A! I
have some draim dat one day every valley shall be 'esalted, every hill an'
mountain shall be made low, da rough places will be made plain, an' da damn
crooked places will be made straight, an' da damn glory o' da damn Lord shall
be revealed, an' all flesh shall spot it togetha'. Dis be our hope. Dis be da
damn fait' wit' which I return t' da damn Sout'. Wit' dis fait' we will be able
t' hew out o' da damn mountain o' despair some stone o' hope. Wit' dis fait' we
will be able t' transform da janglin' discords o' our nashun into some dime
symphony o' brotherhood. Wit' dis fait' we will be able t' work togetha', t'
pray togetha', t' struggle togetha', t' go t' jail togetha', t' stand down 4
freedom togetha', knowin' dat we will be free one day. Slap mah 'fro!
Dis will be da damn day when all o' Da Lord's chilluns will be able t' sin'
wit' some fresh mainin', "Mah country, 'tis o' thee, sweet land o' liberty, o'
thee I sin'. Land where mah daddy-Os died, land o' da damn pilgrim's pride,
from every mountainside, let freedom rin'." An' if America be t' be some great
nashun, dis gots'ta become true. So's let freedom rin' from da prodigious
hilltops o' Fresh Hampshire. Let freedom rin' from da mighty mountains o'
Harlem. Let freedom rin' from da heightenin' Alleghenies o' Pennsylvania! Let
freedom rin' from da snowcapped Rockies o' Colorado! Let freedom rin' from da
curvaceous paiks o' California! But not only dat; let freedom rin' from Stone
Mountain o' Georgia! Step up. Let freedom rin' from Lookout Mountain o'
Tennessee! Let freedom rin' from every hill an' every molehill o' Mississippi.
From every mountainside, let freedom rin'.
When we let freedom rin', when we let it rin' from every village an' every
hamlet, from every state an' every hood, we will be able t' speed down dat day
when all o' Da Lord's chilluns, ebony dudes an' pale dudes, Jews an' Gentiles,
Protestants an' Catholics, will be able t' join hands an' sin' in da words o'
da damn played out brotha' spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank da
Lord Almighty, we be free at last!"