Poor Old Jeff

Twas just one year ago to-day,
That I remember well,
I sat down by dear Nelly's side,
And a story she did tell,
Twas about a poor old darkie - Jeff,
Who lived for many a year;
But now he's dead and gone to rest,
No troubles does he fear.

Poor old Jeff has gone to rest,
We know that he is free;
Disturb him not, but let him rest,
'Way down in Tennessee.

She took my arm, we walk'd along,
 Into an open field,
And there we sat and talked awhile, 
Then to his grave did steal.
She knelt down by the grassy mound, 
And softly whispered there -
"Come to me father, 'tis thy child,"
And softly dropp'd a tear.


But since that time how things have changed,
Poor Nelly that was my pride,
Is laid beneath the cold green sod,
Down by her father's side,
I planted there, beneath that mound,
The weeping willow tree;
And bathed its roots with many a tear,
That it might shelter me.


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Page created 21 October 2014