Gone are the days when my heart was young...

"Old Black Joe"

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 heart is bending low;
I hear their 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!
I'm coming, I'm coming,
For my heart is bending low;
I hear their gentle voices calling,
'Old Black Joe!'

Where are their 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 long to go.

I hear their gentle voices calling
'Old Black Joe!
I'm coming, I'm coming,
For my heart is bending low;
I hear their gentle voices calling,
'Old Black Joe!'

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