Old Black Joe

Gone are the days

When my heart was young and brave

Gone are my friends

From the cotton fields away

Gone from this earth

To a better land I know

I hear their gentle voices calling

Old Black Joe

Why do I weep

When my heart should feel no pain?

Why do I sigh

That my friends won't come again?

Grieving for forms

Now departed long ago

I hear their gentle voices calling

Old Black Joe

I'm coming, I'm coming

For my head is bending low

I hear those gentle voices calling

Old Black Joe

Where are the hearts

Once so happy and so free?

All the children so dear

That I held upon my knee

Gone to the shore

Where my soul has longed to go

I hear their gentle voices calling

Old Black Joe

I'm coming, I'm coming

For my head is bending low

I hear those gentle voices calling

Old Black Joe

I hear their gentle voices calling

Old Black Joe