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That Old River
Look at that old river, sitting there so still
Full of fear, almost frightening - got to get
to that old river tonight somehow.
Freedom calls for me tonight, dreams only of old
dusty fields - no more, no more at last - got
to get to that old river somehow.
Is that biscuits I smell in that old kitchen - not
tonight I cry - across that old river tonight before
I die. Out the door I began feeling the warm breeze
in the air. Oh Lord! Help me to make it there.
With each step my feet got heavier and heavier - holding
my breath, scared to death. It's just me and you Lord,
sure can't turn back from this journey now.
This night seem longer somehow - suddenly I could hear
voices from afar - must be getting closer I sigh. Come
on over I heard someone cry, got to get across this old
river, freedom before I die.
Slowly, down the river we went, my heart gave a big sigh.
Suddenly, the boat hit solid ground - I jumped up
Hallelujah! Lord! I made it to the other side.
As I began to look back at that old river, it didn't seem
so big at all. Good-bye Old River, Old River Good-bye
poem
by
Cassandra Mitchum
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