No Mo' Freedom Songtext / Lyric

Don’t the moon look pretty, shinin’ down through the willow tree.
I can see my baby, but my baby can't see me.

I was standing, standing on the corner of North *Farish* and Church Street,
When that old big bad police man came up and arrested me.

When those juror, juror found me guilty, that old mean clerk wrote it down.
I could tell by that, people, that I was Parchman bound.

No more freedom, no more good time, in this wide, wide world for me.
I'm beat for my freedom, and I'm sick as I can be.

But someday, yes, someday, someday I will go free.
I'm goin' treat all you people just like you treated me.