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There ain't no more cane on the Brazos |
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They ground it all up in molasses |
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Captain, don't you do me like you done your poor Shine |
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Well, they drove that poor Billy 'til he went stone blind |
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You want to come on the river in 1904 |
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You could find many dead men most every road |
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If you going on the river in 1910 |
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They was driving the women like they drive the men |
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Why don't you rise up, you dead men |
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Help me drive my road |
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Why don't you rise up, you dead men |
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Help me drive my road |
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Well, there's some in the building |
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And there's some in the yard |
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There's some in the graveyard |
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And there's some going home |
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Why don't you wake up, you people |
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And lift up your heads |
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You may get your pardon |
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But you may end up dead |
