Dese bones gwine rise again
Made ‘im outa mud an’ a han’ful o’ san
Dese bones gwine to rise again
Indeed I knowed it, brother
I knowed it
Dese bones gwine to rise again
Didn’t know exactly what to do
Made Miss Eve for to be his bride
Put um in a garden fine and fair
Tole um to eat whatever was dere
Must leave de apples dere to grow
At Miss Eve his eye he wunk
Then she filled an apron full
Smack his lips an’ say ‘twas nice
Shook de world to its very jois’
“No, Marse Lord; I ‘spec’ it was Eve”
Earn you’ livin’ by yo’ sweat”
Tol’ um never come dere no more
Eve et’te apple and Adam de co’.
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