Stephen Foster, 1860
Gone are the days when my heart was young and gay,|
Gone are my friends from the cotton fields away,
Gone from the earth to a better land I know,
I hear their gentle voices calling "Old Black Joe".
I'm coming, I'm coming,
For my head is bending low,
I hear their gentle voices
Calling "Old Black Joe".
2. Why do I weep, when my heart should feel no pain,|
Why do I sigh that my friends come not again.
Grieving for forms now departed long ago.
I hear their gentle voices calling "Old Black Joe"
3. Where are the hearts once so happy and so free?
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