| Where do you come from, Cotton-Eye Joe
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| Leaving your house now, a long time ago
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| Hid in a cane brake, all night long
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| Ran away north-land, to sing your song
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| And you never quit grievin'
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| Wishing you were home again
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| Missing the campground
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| And the sweet, sweet singing
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| Ain’t a getting younger, Cotton-Eye Joe
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| Feet still dancing, when the music slows
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| North-land, north-land, gets so cold
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| Times get hard when, the bones get old
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| Ain’t you never quit grieving
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| Wishing you were home again
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| Missing the campgrounds
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| And the sweet, sweet singing
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| Missing the river, you could catch your dinner in
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| All day Sunday, feeling like a rescued sinner
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| Singing the old songs
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| Singing the old songs
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| Didn’t you find out, a long time ago
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| Jesus loves his Cotton-Eye Joe
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| Sittin' in a rocker, sleepy-eyed
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| Chariots comin' by and by
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| And you never quit grievin'
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| Wishing you were home again
|
| Missing the campground
|
| And the sweet, sweet singing
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| Ah, missing the river you could catch your dinner in
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| All day Sunday, feeling like a rescued sinner
|
| Singing the old songs
|
| Singing the old songs
|
| And didn’t you find out, long time ago
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| Jesus loves his Cotton-Eye Joe
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| Sittin' in a rocker, sleepy eyed
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| Chariots a-comin' by and by
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| You never quit grieving
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| Wishing you were home again
|
| Missing the campground
|
| And the sweet, sweet singing |