" Ballad of Birmingham," by Dudley Randall

"Ballad of Birmingham," by Dudley Randall

Dudley Randall was born in 1914, in Washington D.C, and moved to Detroit in 1920. He published his first poem in the Detroit Free Press when he was just thirteen years old. He earned degrees in English and library science, and worked as a librarian until he retired in 1974. In 1965, he started Broadside Press, an important publisher of African-American poets and political writers. Randall was also known for translating Russian works and his experimental style of poetry. (information from the Poetry Foundation).

(On the bombing of a church in Birmingham, Alabama, 1963)

“Mother dear, may I go downtown

Instead of out to play,

And march the streets of Birmingham

In a Freedom March today?”

“No, baby, no, you may not go,

For the dogs are fierce and wild,

And clubs and hoses, guns and jails

Aren’t good for a little child.”

“But, mother, I won’t be alone.

Other children will go with me,

And march the streets of Birmingham

To make our country free.”

“No, baby, no, you may not go,

For I fear those guns will fire.

But you may go to church instead

And sing in the children’s choir.”

She has combed and brushed her night-dark hair,

And bathed rose petal sweet,

And drawn white gloves on her small brown hands,

And white shoes on her feet.

The mother smiled to know her child

Was in the sacred place,

But that smile was the last smile

To come upon her face.

For when she heard the explosion,

Her eyes grew wet and wild.

She raced through the streets of Birmingham

Calling for her child.

She clawed through bits of glass and brick,

Then lifted out a shoe.

“O, here’s the shoe my baby wore,

But, baby, where are you?”

Sunday, September 15, 1963; four young girls were killed and twenty-two others were injured in the bombing of a Church in Birmingham, Alabama. In, “Ballad of Birmingham,” the author reflects on this horrific and heartbreaking event through an unconventionally simple structure and rhyme scheme. 

 The poem begins with a conversation between a mother and her child. The rhythm is fast-paced, excited yet frantic, in order to display both the child’s longing to participate in the March and the mother’s desire to protect her child.  Innocence is contrasted with the violence in the streets; the danger of police dogs, fire-hoses, guns, and clubs. We see one last image of child, “bathed rose-petal sweet,” with her “white gloves on her small brown hands,” and her white shoes,” before the excited tone fades away with the beginning of the seventh quatrain.  No longer smiling after the sound of an explosion, the mother must claw through “bits of glass and brick” with her eyes “wet and wild” after the death of her child. Despite this devastating and serious topic, Randall uses a basic structure of eight quatrains with a simple ABCB rhyme scheme to mimic the sing-song nature of a nursery rhyme.   Having such a dark topic presented in a light-hearted manner further explains the message that nothing, not even a mother’s love can shield the world from racism.  It is structured in a way that is easy to remember, yet hard to forget; just like tragedy in Birmingham. Randall’s purpose is clear, hoping that with the poem’s directness and simplicity, we are able to remember events such as these in order to prevent them in the future.