The Nine

This is a song I wrote about 5 years ago to commemorate the Charleston Nine. It's still a hard one to sing.

The Nine – Tim O’Keefe 7-15

 

Charleston in the month of June         Am C

At Mother Emmanuel                                G Am

Good people met to share their prayers

But one man came to kill

 

They invited him to share their time             F C

To pray, to learn, to teach                           G Am

They welcomed him with open arms

But his heart was out of reach

 

(CHORUS)

Maybe some good will happen           Am C

Maybe some kind of spark                         G Am

Maybe we’ll move a little closer to the light 

Maybe come in from the dark

Maybe we’ll seek some honest answers       F C

That would be so fine                                G Am

Maybe we’ll speak some truth to power

We owe so much to The Nine                     E* Am

 

He shot and killed those precious ones

To start some kind of war

He thought his hate would conquer their love

But he’ll get no reward

 

‘Cause when the families of the victims spoke

Their strength came from their faith

Forgiveness was the message they shared,

“There’s no room in my heart to hate.”                  CHORUS

 

It was no trouble for that young man

To get himself a gun

Like chains and whips and ropes of old

He carried a Glock .41

 

They prayed and talked that mid June night

A young stranger in their midst

Singing those old Halleluiah songs

They couldn’t know what to expect            

 

BRIDGE

We met this evil man before                                 F C F C G

His face was there on Africa’s shore                     Am F C G

In the Dark Middle Passage and Hate’s awful course    Am F C G

We’re familiar with his terrible face

His gun and his rope and his hanging place

His Jim Crow laws, his higher race

We know this wretched man all right

His tired flag, his speeches trite

His endless battle against Civil Rights

His chains, his whip, his hate, his gun

He’s been in this land since we’ve begun

Now let us pray that his time is done

 

Along with the Birmingham girls

Mississippi and young Emmett Till

The Freedom Riders back in ‘61

We remember their stories well

 

“Come Ye That Love The Lord,” they sang

And, “We are marching to beautiful Zion”

We sing their songs, we raise our voices

To the memory of The Nine