I prayed and what did prayer avail?
My candles held no power.
An evening came I prayed no more
and blew my candles out,
oh blew my candles out.
Put on your Sunday ribbon-bows,
Cleola, Willie Mae;
you, Garland, go
and shine your Sunday shoes,
make haste and shine your shoes.
They were so happy they forgot
they were hungry, daddyless.
Except Cleola maybe-she
wasn't asking, Where we going,
Mommy, where we going?
Garland was too quick for me
(he didn't yell once as he ran);
Cleola, Willie Mae
won't be hungry any more,
oh they'll never cry and hunger any more.