By Jerimarie Liesegang
From David Bacon, http://dbacon.igc.org/
The following is a take off on Yip Harburg’s Brother, Can You Spare A Dime. However, it is been adapted to reflect today’s current situation of those who helped “build a nation” and now being pushed cast aside as criminals.
They used to tell me they were traveling to the land of freedom, and so I migrated with the others.
When there were vegetables to be picked, Or when there were loved ones to be cared for,
When there were homes and offices to be tended, Or when there was construction to be done,David Bacon
I was always there, day and night, sad or happy, right there on the job.
They used to tell me I was traveling to the land of freedom, with happiness and security ahead.
So why should I be standing in shackles, denied basic human rights, waiting for injustice?
They used to tell me I was traveling to the land of freedom, with happiness and security ahead.
So please tell me what I did wrong, why I am being called a criminal,
So please tell me what I did wrong, for simply working for a better life for my loved ones and myself?
Once I helped feed a nation, I toiled long backbreaking hours with little to show,
Once I helped build a nation, I cleaned your offices and I tended your lawns with little to show,
Once I helped build a nation, and now I am in jail, told I was a criminal when just hours before I helped build a nation,
Brother, Why Can’t You Spare Me These Raids?
Once I built a road, so that many loved ones could shop, could visit and could earn a living,
Once I built a road, and now that is done, and now I am in shackles in ICE detention,
While my loved ones ask of where I went, and what did I do wrong in help building a road?
Once I helped build a nation’s infrastructure, and now I am in ICE detention, told I was a criminal when just hours before I helped build a nation,
Brother, Why Can’t You Spare Me These Raids?
Once in our festive best, gee we looked swell, full of that Melting Pot Dream,
We are laborers, we are custodians, we are farmers, we are caregivers, and we are many,
Half a million migrants who went toiling in factories, in farms, in offices, in sweatshops, and through Hell,
And yet we made time to celebrate life, celebrate family, celebrate freedom, and I was the kid with the smile!
Say, why don’t you remember me; I have taken care of your families, I have fed your loved ones,
Say, why don’t you remember me, for you knew I had toiled to be free like your ancestors,
Say, Why don’t you remember, why do you arrest me, I’m no different than your ancestors,
They were called by many different names, in many different languages,
They were allowed the American Dream, yet you say there is no room for me now that my work is done,
Brother, Why Can’t You Spare Me These Raids?
Once in our festive best, gee we looked swell, full of that Melting Pot Dream,
We are laborers, we are custodians, we are farmers, we are caregivers, and we are many,
Half a million migrants who went toiling in factories, in farms, in offices, in sweatshops, and through Hell,
And yet we made time to celebrate life, celebrate family, celebrate freedom, and I was the kid with the smile!
Say, why don’t you remember me; is it because my skin is not white like your ancestors?
Say, why don’t you remember me; is it because I crossed land and not an ocean like your ancestors?
Say, why don’t you remember me; is it because I am poor and speak a different language?
Say, why don’t you remember me; is it because you have achieved the dream and now no one else can?
Say, why don’t you remember me; is it because you have so quickly forgot the struggles your ancestors shared like me?
Say, why don’t you remember me; is it because you have so quickly forgot the true meaning of humanity?
Brother, Please Why Can’t You Spare Me These Raids?
Say, haven’t you read what your famed Statue of Liberty proclaims:
cries she With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”
Say, are these famous words only for you and your ancestors and not for me?
Brother, Please Why Can’t You Spare Me These Raids?
Brother, Please Why Can’t You Spare Me These Raids?
(East Haven) Due to numerous complaints of harassment against people of color by the East Haven Police Department, over 130 Connecticut residents gathered together Saturday afternoon on Main Street to demand justice and an end to racial profiling and border patrols*. 
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