“Conecuh County Alabama, 1925,
Will Cunningham rode into town to get his weeks’ supplies.
Will was a black man who had fought in World War One,
He’d faced the smoke and powder, but he never chose to run.
He had a favorite scripture whenever times got mean,
It was Second Kings, chapter six, around verse seventeen.
It had helped him back in France , when he was far from home,
Saying, open up our eyes to see, we do not stand alone.
Because he never picked his battles and he never chose his friends,
When he got up in the morning, he didn’t know how the day would end.
But there were angels all around him and chariots on the wind,
And he who stood with him was more than those that rode with them.
Will was my great-grandfather and he never learned to bow,
When other black men stepped aside, Will never figured how.
He worked for Boss Mack Binion, who was a hard and wealthy man,
‘Cause everywhere you were standing, you were on Mack Binion’s land.
Mack Binion was a white man, but all white men weren’t the same.
Some would curse you and abuse you, and call you out your name.
That’s the kind Will met that morning when he stepped into the store,
Just a ball of hate and evil, and very little more.
Because he never picked his battles and he never chose his friends,
When he got up in the morning, he didn’t know how the day would end.
But there were angels all around him and chariots on the wind,
And he who stood with him was more than those that rode with them.
When Will Cunningham met Evil, he looked Evil in the face.
Evil said, ‘This is the kind of Niggra you gotta put back in his place.
So he slapped my great-grandfather to teach him, by degrees.
Will answered him with a straight right hand that knocked Evil to his knees.
This was still Conecuh County, back in 1925,
And you couldn’t whip a white man if you wanted to stay alive.
Some Will jumped onto his wagon, and he headed back for home
He didn’t want Henrietta and the babies to meet the storm alone.
Because he never picked his battles and he never chose his friends,
When he got up in the morning, he didn’t know how the day would end.
But there were angels all around him and chariots on the wind,
And he who stood with him was more than those that rode with them.
So, Evil got his mob together and they passed around the cup,
Saying, ‘Around about midnight, we’ll go string the n-gg-r up.
And Evil had the rifles and Evil had the rope.
Will had a shotgun, but he didn’t have much hope.
Then Boss Mack Binion showed up, with his pistol in his hand,
Said, ‘I heard y’all gonna try to lynch my hardest working man.
I don’t know who you worthless trash think you came to kill,
But I will gladly shoot the man who lays a hand on my man Will.
Then, one by one, they dropped their guns and went into the night
Will lived to see another day, he’d won a hopeless fight,
And the word of God, from World War One had saved him once again,
‘Cause he didn’t pick his battles and he never chose his friends.
Will died in a nursing home at the age of ninety-one.
And standing at the funeral home was the one who wrote this song.
And I tell this old man’s story, just to pass along,
That even when you’re by yourself, you do not stand alone.
Because you can’t always pick our battles, and
You can’t always choose your friends.
When you get up in the morning, you don’t know how your day will end,
But there are angels all around us, and chariots on the wind,
And He who stands with us is more than those who ride with them."
Will Cunningham rode into town to get his weeks’ supplies.
Will was a black man who had fought in World War One,
He’d faced the smoke and powder, but he never chose to run.
He had a favorite scripture whenever times got mean,
It was Second Kings, chapter six, around verse seventeen.
It had helped him back in France , when he was far from home,
Saying, open up our eyes to see, we do not stand alone.
Because he never picked his battles and he never chose his friends,
When he got up in the morning, he didn’t know how the day would end.
But there were angels all around him and chariots on the wind,
And he who stood with him was more than those that rode with them.
Will was my great-grandfather and he never learned to bow,
When other black men stepped aside, Will never figured how.
He worked for Boss Mack Binion, who was a hard and wealthy man,
‘Cause everywhere you were standing, you were on Mack Binion’s land.
Mack Binion was a white man, but all white men weren’t the same.
Some would curse you and abuse you, and call you out your name.
That’s the kind Will met that morning when he stepped into the store,
Just a ball of hate and evil, and very little more.
Because he never picked his battles and he never chose his friends,
When he got up in the morning, he didn’t know how the day would end.
But there were angels all around him and chariots on the wind,
And he who stood with him was more than those that rode with them.
When Will Cunningham met Evil, he looked Evil in the face.
Evil said, ‘This is the kind of Niggra you gotta put back in his place.
So he slapped my great-grandfather to teach him, by degrees.
Will answered him with a straight right hand that knocked Evil to his knees.
This was still Conecuh County, back in 1925,
And you couldn’t whip a white man if you wanted to stay alive.
Some Will jumped onto his wagon, and he headed back for home
He didn’t want Henrietta and the babies to meet the storm alone.
Because he never picked his battles and he never chose his friends,
When he got up in the morning, he didn’t know how the day would end.
But there were angels all around him and chariots on the wind,
And he who stood with him was more than those that rode with them.
So, Evil got his mob together and they passed around the cup,
Saying, ‘Around about midnight, we’ll go string the n-gg-r up.
And Evil had the rifles and Evil had the rope.
Will had a shotgun, but he didn’t have much hope.
Then Boss Mack Binion showed up, with his pistol in his hand,
Said, ‘I heard y’all gonna try to lynch my hardest working man.
I don’t know who you worthless trash think you came to kill,
But I will gladly shoot the man who lays a hand on my man Will.
Then, one by one, they dropped their guns and went into the night
Will lived to see another day, he’d won a hopeless fight,
And the word of God, from World War One had saved him once again,
‘Cause he didn’t pick his battles and he never chose his friends.
Will died in a nursing home at the age of ninety-one.
And standing at the funeral home was the one who wrote this song.
And I tell this old man’s story, just to pass along,
That even when you’re by yourself, you do not stand alone.
Because you can’t always pick our battles, and
You can’t always choose your friends.
When you get up in the morning, you don’t know how your day will end,
But there are angels all around us, and chariots on the wind,
And He who stands with us is more than those who ride with them."
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