Gone are the daysJoseph Lee Cole was Papa's hired handJust like one of the family, though a black manWhy Joseph, I called him Joe LeeWhy he's just as much my kin as my kin was to meJoe Lee and me running through the SouthPastor Joe's gonna teach me how to fish the creekWith nothing but a pole and a bent safety pinWe brought home a heaping mess of catfishMama brought up them catfishStirred up those puppies we hadTill we could hold them allThen we stressed out beneath the big old treeAnd watched the catfishWatch the world growMe and JoeJoe Lee and meJoe Lee hung a tar in the big old treeWhere I swung away my summer days inThen he whittled me a top from a chunk of old woodAnd he learned me how to spinHe tied a button to the end of a stringHe showed me how to put my wrist and let it goOh, Joe was always doing favors for meAnd I tried to help JoeJoseph, I called good old Joe LeeNow at the supper it sit on the front porchSerenaded by the frogs and the cricketsAnd the gentle summer breezeFlowing through the pine treesPlaying tag-to-tag with grass ticketsAnd in the summer breezeJoe turned on his soulThat harmonica he sure could blowGood old JoeOh, Joseph Lee called good old Joe LeeJoe Lee fell out from the summer heatPapa had to bring him in from the fieldsIt wasn't ninety degrees in the shadeBut old Joe Lee broke it outWith a chillJoe Lee called me to his bedsideHe said, I done wrote my last rowI hear the gentle voices callingJoseph Lee called good old Joe LeeJoseph Lee called good old Joe LeeJoe Eeesen called good old Joe LeeJoseph Lee called good old Joe LeeJoseph Lee called good old Joe LeeJoseph Lee called good old Joe Leeyou