| Take the old man to the river’s mercy
|
| Wearing his father’s coat and woven pedigree
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| Take his old friends from the gentry
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| To the river, the river is thirsty
|
| Take his old girl to the river’s mercy
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| Wearing a heavy thread heirloom tapestry
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| Take his old girl with him, his family tree
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| To the river, the river is thirsty
|
| Take his old blood
|
| His moon and sun
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| To the river
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| And the white rows, like ribbons of Lisbon
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| And roll with the field like a flag that is waving
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| And the black rows, they sowed their own chain
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| Get a dollar with a calico for their newborn baby
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| And the bell sends a key to the lock
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| And a whistle in the wind that carries the wings
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| And the guard dogs that catch the call
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| Put the key to freedom in the hand of Redeemers
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| Now the iron cloth that’s cut from the loom
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| Bears a black and white stripe of a cotton field rolling
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| And the dark minds and flame of Redeemers
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| Put them right back in the iron cloth and the flag is waving
|
| Take his old blood
|
| His moon and sun
|
| To the river, it’s thirsty
|
| Take him by the hand to the river
|
| Lead him by the hand into the water
|
| Let the heavy thread drink up the river
|
| Let the heavy thread drag him down to the bottom
|
| Take him by the hand to the river
|
| Lead him by the hand into the water
|
| Let the heavy thread drink up the river
|
| Let the heavy thread drag him down to the bottom
|
| Lead him by the hand to the river
|
| Lead him by the hand into the water
|
| Let the heavy thread drink up the river
|
| Let the heavy thread drag him down
|
| Take his old blood
|
| His moon and sun
|
| You can see
|
| Take the old man
|
| To the river, it’s thirsty |