My reflection has seen the glory of the world,
And has tiptoed to the top of political elections.
My reflection has seen the horrors of the world.
And still it has made no connections.
With hundreds of other apparitions,
My reflection has been on ships.
And with the sweat on it’s back glistening,
My reflection has seen whips.
My reflection has seen the White House
The kitchen and master bedroom.
My reflection has tap-danced on stages,
In black-face and in costume.
My reflection has seen the mountain top like King.
My reflection has seen the river bottom like Till.
It resides in the chords of jazz and the blues
And in the bales at the cotton mill.
