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American Ballads and Folk Songs
Den Adam took a little slice— Dese bones gwine to rise again. Smack his lips an' say 'twas nice— Dese bones gwine to rise again.
De Lord he come a-wanderin' roun'— Dese bones gwine to rise again. Spied dem peelin's on de groun'— Dese bones gwine to rise again.
De Lord he speaks wid a ponstrus voice— Dese bones gwine to rise again. Shuck dis oP worP to its ve'y joists— Dese bones gwine to rise again.
"Adam, Adam, where art thou?" Dese bones gwine to rise again. "Heah, Marse Lord, Ise a-comin' now." Dese bones gwine to rise again.
"Stole my apples, 1 believe?"
Dese bones gwine to rise again.
"No, Marse Lord, but I spec' it wuz Eve."
Dese bones gwine to rise again.
De Lord he riz up in his wrath— Dese bones gwine to rise again. Told 'em, "Yo' beat it down de path." Dese bones gwine to rise again.
"Out o' dis gyarden you mus' git." Dese bones gwine to rise again. "Earn yo' living by yo' sweat." Dese bones gwine to rise again.
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