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The Bittercup

by Bro. C.V. Troop

I drink from the Bittercup With the choking oil of prejudice To quinch my thirst I ask for a cooling drink Of the water of freedom To soothe my parching lips Instead they give me The gall of oppression And the dredges are so bitter And they tell me I must drink and like it My soul burns within me At the sight of that cup And everyday the man Within me stirs And whispers oh so clear: " 'Tis better to die of thirst Than to drink forever from The Bittercup"