Here we all work, sloughing the Mississippi.
Here we all work,
while the white folk play.
Pulling them both from the dawn till sunset.
Getting no rest till the judgment day.
Don't look up and don't look down.
You don't ask,
make the white boss frown.
Bend your knees
and bow your head.
Pull that rope
until you're dead.
Let me go away from the Mississippi.
Let me go away from the white man boss.
Show me that stream called the River Jordan.
That's the old stream
that I long to cross.
That I long to cross.
That old man river.
He must know something,
but he
don't say nothing.
He just keeps rolling.
He keeps on rolling along.
He don't plant faders,
and he don't plant cotton.
And them white
plants of his soon forgotten.
But old man river,
just keep rolling along.
I get weary,
and so sick of trying.
I'm tired of living, but I'm feared of dying.