From: Muhammad Ali Salaam, Atlanta, Georgia
Recently, while moving around the house, I found myself singing the Snow Hill Institute song. You know, since graduating from Snow Hill in 1968 I still remember, not only the words to the song but how it was taught to us by Ms Alberta Lee, the grandmother of "Spike" Lee. I have since taught my children to sing it the correct way and often thought of how important things of this sought should be preserved for posterity through our youth. Ms Lee, in those days was quite adamant in her insistence that we learn the song not only but that we learn the history behind it; who was its author, when was it written and the meaning of its lyrics.

As I reflect back on those good old Snow Hill days, I am sometimes made sad when I look upon our people today and see the many good things about our culture that has been not only lost but somehow become defined as something old fashion that we have been liberated from. It is, instead, our heritage and someone has played a grand scheme on us to igmore our cultural heritage knowing full well that without it, there is no possiblity for a people, especially the young, to feel a sense of self worth.

I know that many of us recall this beautiful song but I though that I would just scribe it out here just in case some of us have forgotten it or some of the young have never been exposed to it.

THE SNOW HILL SONG

by:

Waverly Turner Carmichael

A mother true, a mother wise

This is the name she bears;

She's sowing truth throughout the land,

To serve in coming years.

Upon the hearts of earnest youths

Who march to her bright dawn,

She is writing there a precious theme;

Sing, pray and labor on.

A mother who is walking down

The narrow rugged lane,

To reach the goal which stands afar

In everlasting fame.

Though trials come on ever side,

Her aim is bright and true;

Through storms our mother will endure

And make our lives anew.

A mother dear, a mother true

This mother is Snow Hill;

Whose lesson is to labor on;

And do our Sovereign's will.

And well thou knowest mother mine

That life is not all ease

Thus there may'st suffer many pain

While bringing in the sheaves.

Music by Alberta Sims