American Ballads and Folk Songs: page - 0707

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American Ballads and Folk Songs
Well, well, well, he's my souPs 'mancipator, Well, well, well, he's my soul's 'mancipator, Well, well, well, he's my souPs 'mancipator, Jesus gonna make up my dyin' bed.
When you hear dat I'm a-dyin',
I don't want you to be afraid}
All I want my frien's to do
Is take de pillow from under my head.
Well, well, well, so I can die easy, etc.
Mother on her dyin' bed,
Children roun' her bed, cryin'.
"Go 'way, children, don' worry my min',
'Cause you know Ise born to die."
Well, well, well, I don' min' dyin', etc.
When I had a mother,
I had somewhere to go;
But, since my mother's been dead and gone,
I been wand'rin' frum do' to do'.
Well, well, well, I got good religion, etc.
Ever since me an' Jesus been married We haven' been a minute apart; He put the receiver in my han' An' de Holy Ghos' in my heart.
Well, well, well, so I kin call up Jesus, etc.
Oh, meet me, Jesus, meet me, Meet me in de middle o' de air,