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"What if I told you
That I’m on this train
Because my two grown sons were frightened—
Me driving through the night
On a stretch of farm-stand highway
In Mississippi—
‘Cause they don’t need a hood or a cross or a tree

What if I told you
That I’m headed to a funeral in Tupelo
On the hundred acre farm
Purchased by my great-grandfather
Who learned to read
‘Cause his master’s daughter
Taught him secretly

And not knowing
What kind of schooling
His own children would receive
He taught them never to sign
Their names on anything—
‘Cause they don’t need a hood or a cross or a tree

And would he have believed
That his great-granddaughter—
All the way to the Ivy League?

And would he have believed
The millions of dollars—
And yet still unsafe
On that stretch of farm-stand highway?

What if I told you
That my eldest son
Loves a white girl
Whom I adore
But who lives in a part of town where
A black man might be mistaken for—
‘Cause they don’t need a hood or a cross or a tree
No, they don’t need a hood or a cross or a tree

And if I told you all of that
Maybe you would understand
Why I have limited sympathy
For your desire to know the suffering
Of the working white man"

Monica explained
In the dining car
As we hurtled South
In the growing dark

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