Hush, little baby, don't you cry You know your mama was born to die All my trials, Lord, soon be over River of Jordan is muddy and cold Well, it chills the body, but not the soul All my trials, Lord, soon be over I've got a little book with pages three And every page spells, "Liberty" All my trials, Lord, soon be over Too late, my brothers Too late, but never mind All my trials, Lord, soon be over If living were a thing that money could buy You know the rich would live and the poor would die All my trials, Lord, soon be over There grows a tree in Paradise And the pilgrims call it the Tree of Life All my trials, Lord, soon be over Too late, my brothers Too late, but never mind All my trials, Lord, soon be over All my trials, Lord, soon be over
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