“What did I do to deserve this?Did I ever hit anyone who was calling for help?Haven’t I wept for those who live a hard life,been heartsick over the lot of the poor?But where did it get me?I expected good but evil showed up.I looked for light but darkness fell.My stomach’s in a constant churning, never settles down.Each day confronts me with more suffering.I walk under a black cloud. The sun is gone.I stand in the congregation and protest.I howl with the jackals,I hoot with the owls.I’m black-and-blue all over,burning up with fever.My fiddle plays nothing but the blues;my mouth harp wails laments.”