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… |