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Poor old joe

Pagina: 549/549

Steven Collins Foster (1860)

'Old Black Joe'
 
Gone are the days
When my heart was young and gay.
Gone are my friends
From the coton fields away.
Gone from the earth
To a better land I know.

Chorus:
I hear their gentle voices
Calling : "poor old Joe"
I’m coming,
I’m coming
For my head is bending low.
I hear their gentle voices
Calling : "poor old 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 deported long ago?

Where are the hearts
Once so happy and so free?
Children so dear
That I held upon my knee?
Gone to the shore
Where my soul has longed to go…