The Death of Emmett Till by Bob Dylan

Twas down in Mississippi, not so long ago,
When a young boy from Chicago town stepped through a southern door.
This boy's dreadful tragedy, I can still remember well.
The color of his skin was black and his name was Emmett Till.

Some men they dragged him to a barn and there they beat him up.
They said they had a reason, but I can't remember what.
They tortured him and did some things too evil to repeat.
There were screaming sounds inside the barn, there was
laughing sounds out on the street.

Then they rolled his body down a gulf, amidst a bloody red rain.
And they threw him in the waters wide to cease his screaming pain.
The reason that they killed him there and I'm sure it ain't no lie.
Was just for the fun of killing him and to watch him slowly die.

And then to stop the United States of yelling for a trial.
Two brothers they confessed that they had killed poor Emmett Till.
But on the jury, there were men who helped the brothers commit this awful crime.
And so this trial was a mockery, but nobody seemed to mind.

I saw the morning papers but I could not bear
To see the smiling brothers walking down the courthouse stairs.
For the jury found them innocent and the brothers they went free,
While Emmett's body floats the foam of a Jim Crow southern sea.

If you can't speak out against this kind of thing, a crime that's so unjust,
Your eyes are filled with dead mans dirt, your mind is filled with dust.
Your arms and legs they must be in shackles and chains and your blood
it must refuse to flow.
For you let this human race fall down so God-awful low.

This song is just a reminder, to remind your fellow man,
That this kind of thing still lives today in that ghost robed Ku Klux Klan.
But if all us folks who think alike, if we gave all we can give.
We could make this great world of ours a greater place to live.