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at a funeral, the dead would commence to rocking with the beat. Used to travel all over
Mississippi and as far as Monroe, Louisiana, and east on over to Macon, Georgia. You

mean you ain’t never heard of Sweet Lemon Brown?”
“Afraid not,” Greg said. “What…happened to you?”

“Hard times, boy. Hard times always after a poor man. One day I got tired, sat down

to rest a spell and felt a tap on my shoulder. Hard times
caught up with me.”
What you Think?ou Think?
“Sorry about that.” What y

“What are you doing here? How come you don’t go in
home when the rain come? Rain don’t bother you young Describe the old man.
folks none.”

“Just didn’t.” Greg looked away.

“I used to have a knotty-headed boy just like you.” Lemon Brown had half walked, half
shuffled back to the corner and sat down against the wall. “Had them big eyes like you
got. I used to call them moon eyes. Look into them moon eyes and see anything you
want.”

“How come you gave up singing the blues?” Greg asked.
“Didn’t give it up,” Lemon Brown said. “You don’t give up the blues; they give you

up. After a while you do good for yourself, and it ain’t nothing but foolishness singing
about how hard you got it. Ain’t that right?”

“I guess so.”

“What’s that noise?” Lemon Brown asked, suddenly sitting upright. Greg listened, and
he heard a noise outside. He looked at Lemon Brown and saw the old man pointing
toward the window.

Greg went to the window and saw three men, neighborhood thugs, on the stoop. One was
carrying a length of pipe. Greg looked back toward Lemon Brown, who moved quietly
across the room to the window. The old man looked out, then beckoned frantically for

Greg to follow him. For a moment Greg couldn’t move. The he found himself following
Lemon Brown into the hallway and up the darkened stairs. Greg followed as closely as
he could. They reached the top of the stairs, and Greg felt Lemon Brown’s hand first
lying on his shoulder, then probing down his arm until he took Greg’s hand into his
own as they crouched in the darkness.

“They’s bad men,” Lemon Brown whispered. His breath was warm against Greg’s skin.

“Hey! Rag man!” A voice called. “We know you in here. What you got up under them

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The English Carnival-7