We are coming from the cotton fields,
We're coming from afar;
We have left the plow, the hoe and ax
And are going to the war;
We have left old plantation seat,
The sugar and the cane,
Where we worked and toiled with weary feet.
In sun and wind and rain.
Then come along my boys,
Oh! come, come along,
Then come along my brothers,
Oh come, come along.
We are coming from the cotton fields.
We're coming from a far,
We have left the plow the hoe and ax,
And are going to the war.
We have dug our last potato here
In old Carolina State,
And we'll leave these sandy diggins now
For the true Confederate;
We have left the frogs within the bogs
To sing alone and hop
In the swamp lands and the meadows where
We reaped the master's crop.
Then come along my boys,
Oh! come, come along,
Then come along my brothers,
Oh come, come along.
We are coming from the cotton fields.
We're coming from a far,
We have left the plow the hoe and ax,
And are going to the war.
We will leave our chains behind us, boys,
The prison, and the rack;
And we'll hide beneath the soldier's coat,
The scars upon our backs;
And we'll teach the world a lesson soon,
If taken by the hand,
How the night shall come before tis noon,
Upon old Pharoah's Land.
Then come along my boys,
Oh! come, come along,
Then come along my brothers,
Oh come, come along.
We are coming from the cotton fields.
We're coming from a far,
We have left the plow the hoe and ax,
And are going to the war.
By the heavy chains that bound our hands
Thro' centuries of wrong,
We have learned the hard bought lesson well,
How to suffer and be strong;
And we only ask the power to show,
What Freedom does for man;
And we'll give sign to friend and foe,
As none beside us can.
Then come along my boys,
Oh! come, come along,
Then come along my brothers,
Oh come, come along.
We are coming from the cotton fields.
We're coming from a far,
We have left the plow the hoe and ax,
And are going to the war.
