COTTON SONG by N. Jean Toomer.

Come, brother, come. Let’s lift it;
Come now, hewit! Roll away!
Shackles fall upon the Judgment Day
But let’s not wait for it.

God’s body’s got a soul,
Bodies like to roll the soul,
Cant blame God if we dont roll,
Come, brother, roll, roll!

Cotton bales are the fleecy way
Weary sinner’s bare feet trod,
Softly, softly to the throne of God,
“we aint agwine t wait until th Judgment Day!

Nassur; nassur,
Hump.
Eoho, eoho, roll away!
We aint agwine t wait until th Judgment Day!
God’s body’s got a soul,
Bodies like to roll the soul,
Cant blame God if we don’t roll,
Come, brother, roll, roll!!!!

From Cane copyright 1951, reprinted by permission of Liverlight Publishing Corporation.

Reference:
Nathaniel Jean Toomer