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(learned orally and from Sing Out in the 1960s)

staff with melody
(music calligraphy by miriam berg)

Hush, little baby, don't you cry
You know your daddy was born to die.
   All my trials, Lord, soon be over.
   Too late my brothers, too late, but never mind.
   All my trials, Lord, soon be over.

If religion was a thing that money could buy,
The rich would live, and the poor would die.
   All my trials, etc.

The river of Jordan is muddy and cold;
It chills the body, but not the soul.
   All my trials, etc.

There is a tree in Paradise,
The pilgrims call it the Tree of Life.
   All my trials, etc.

I had a little book with pages three;
And every page spelled, "Liberty". (or "Victory")
   All my trials, etc.

(from miriam berg's folksong collection)