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Negro Poems, Melodies |
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And the air is like a garden
And the air is pure and sweet, And my legs are getting rested
And my shoes don't hurt my feet; And I travel on delighted
Without a whip or goad, For the Lord done make it easy
Along the old shore road.
I watch the big white breakers
Come rolling on the shore, But they can't harm this nigger,
Whose days are nearly o'er; Along life's lingering highway
I am on to that abode, Where the Lord done say my place is
Along the old shore road.
I know they call this heaven
The milk and honey land, Where the Lord am gwine to meet me
And take me by the hand; But all I want in heaven
Is a place to rest my load, And a place to drive my mule in
Along the old shore road. |
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