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OLD BLACK JOE, |
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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 those gentle voices calling, "Old Black Joe!"
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!"
Where are the hearts once so happy and so free? 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!" |
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HAIL! HAIL! COMPANIONS BRAVE.
Hail! Hail! Companions brave! Defenders of the Nation, Called from every station-Here 's to the land we saved, When the Flag in triumph waved! |
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