| I was walking in Savannah past a church decayed and dim
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| When slowly through the window came a plaintive funeral hymn
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| And my sympathy awakened and a wonder quickly grew
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| Till I found myself envired in a little colored pew
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| Out front a colored couple sat in sorrow nearly wild
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| On the altar was a casket and in the casket was a child
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| I could picture him while livin’curly hair protuding lips
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| I’d seen perhaps a thousand in my hurried southern trips
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| Rose a sad old colored preacher from his little wooden desk
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| With a manner sorta awkward and countenance grotesque
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| The simplicity and shrewdness in his Eithopian face
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| Showed the wisdom and ignorance of a crushed undying race
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| And he said now don’t be weeping for this pretty bit of clay
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| For the little boy who lived there has done gone and run away
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| He was doin’very finely and he appreciates your love
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| But his shore 'nuff father wanted him in the big house up above
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| The Lord didn’t give you that baby by no hundred thousand miles
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| He just thought you need some sunshine and he lent it for awhile
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| And he let you keep and love it till your hearts were bigger grown
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| And these silver tears you’re sheddin’now is just interest on the loan
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| Just think, my poor dear mourners creepin’along on sorrows life’s way
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| What a blessed picnic this here baby got today
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| Your good fathers and good mothers crowd the little fellow round
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| In the angel’s tender garden of the big plantation ground
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| And his eyes they brightly sparkle at the pretty things he viewed
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| But a tear came, and he whispered I want my parents too
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| But then the angel’s chief musicians teach that little boy a song
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| Says if only they be faithful they’ll soon be comin’along
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| So my poor detached mourners let your hearts with Jesus rest
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| And don’t go to criticizin’the one what knows the best
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| He has give us many comforts he’s got the right to take away
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| To the Lord be praised in glory forever let us pray |