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Negro Poems, Melodies
Tide me over the winter,
Tide me over the snow, Send me back to Georgia
Where the winds don't blow; I don't like the winter,
I don't like the cold, For I'm only a poor old nigger
Who's growing very old.
The crow he got his feathers
In the wing and tail, But scanty are my garments
And my shoes are frail; So send me back to Georgia
Where the winds don't blow, For I'm only a poor old nigger
Who has nowheres to go.
THEN YOU'LL COME BACK TO DIXIE
You said good bye to Dixie,
You bade her your adieu, You left the blackbirds singing
And you left the skylarks too; But when the north winds gather
And tumble round their snows, Then you'll come back to Dixie
Where the sweet magnolia grows.