GOOD OLD JEFF
"Tis just a year ago today that I remember well
I sat down by poor Nelly's side and a story she did tell
"Twas about a poor old darkey Jeff, that lived for many a year
But now he's dead and in his grave, no trouble does he fear
For good old Jeff had gone to rest
We know that he is free
Disturb him not, but let him rest
Way down in Tennessee
She took my arm, we walked along into an open field
And then she paused to breathe a while, then to his grave did
steal
She sat down by that little mound and softly whispered there
"Come to me, Father, 'tis thy child," and gently dropped a tear
But since that time, how things are changed, poor Nell that was
my bride
Is laid beneath the cold clay sod, down by her father's side
I planted there upon her grave a weeping willow tree
I bathed its roots with many a tear that it might shelter me
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GOOD OLD JEFF
"Tis just a year ago today that I remember well
I sat down by poor Nelly's side and a story she did tell
"Twas about a poor old darkey Jeff, that lived for many a year
But now he's dead and in his grave, no trouble does he fear
For good old Jeff had gone to rest
We know that he is free
Disturb him not, but let him rest
Way down in Tennessee
She took my arm, we walked along into an open field
And then she paused to breathe a while, then to his grave did
steal
She sat down by that little mound and softly whispered there
"Come to me, Father, 'tis thy child," and gently dropped a tear
But since that time, how things are changed, poor Nell that was
my bride
Is laid beneath the cold clay sod, down by her father's side
I planted there upon her grave a weeping willow tree
I bathed its roots with many a tear that it might shelter me
"Tis just a year ago today that I remember well
I sat down by poor Nelly's side and a story she did tell
"Twas about a poor old darkey Jeff, that lived for many a year
But now he's dead and in his grave, no trouble does he fear
For good old Jeff had gone to rest
We know that he is free
Disturb him not, but let him rest
Way down in Tennessee
She took my arm, we walked along into an open field
And then she paused to breathe a while, then to his grave did
steal
She sat down by that little mound and softly whispered there
"Come to me, Father, 'tis thy child," and gently dropped a tear
But since that time, how things are changed, poor Nell that was
my bride
Is laid beneath the cold clay sod, down by her father's side
I planted there upon her grave a weeping willow tree
I bathed its roots with many a tear that it might shelter me