(First release—Booker T. Washington (Bukka) White)
Feeling funny in my mind, Lord, I believe I`m fixing to die Feeling funny in my mind, Lord I believe I`m fixing to die Well, I don`t mind dying But I hate to leave my children crying Well, I look over yonder to that burying ground Look over yonder to that burying ground Sure seems lonesome, Lord, when the sun goes down
Feeling funny in my eyes, Lord, I believe I`m fixing to die, fixing to die Feeling funny in my eyes, Lord I believe I`m fixing to die Well, I don`t mind dying but I hate to leave my children crying There`s a black smoke rising, Lord It`s rising up above my head, up above my head It`s rising up above my head, up above my head And tell Jesus make up my dying bed.
I`m walking kind of funny, Lord I believe I`m fixing to die, fixing to die Yes I`m walking kind of funny, Lord I believe I`m fixing to die Fixing to die, fixing to die Well, I don`t mind dying But I hate to leave my children crying.
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