Gone are the days when my heart was young and gay Gone are the toils of the cotton fields away Gone to the fields of a better land I know I hear those gentle voices calling, "Old Black Joe" I'm coming, I'm coming For my head is bending low I hear those gentle voices calling, "Old Black Joe" I'm coming home (I'm coming home) I'm coming home (I'm coming home) Oh-oh my head is bending low I hear those gentle voices calling, "Old Black Joe" Old Black Joe, Old Black Joe, 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 voice calling, "Old Black Joe" Where are the hearts once so happy and free? The children so dear that I held upon my knee? Gone to the shore where my soul has long'd to go I hear their gentle voice calling, "Old Black Joe"
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