Gone are the days When my heart was young and gay, Gone are my friends from the cotton-fields away, Gone from the earth to a better land I know I hear their gentle voices calling “Old Black Joe.” Chorus – I'm coming, I'm coming, For my head is bending low; I hear those gentle voice s calling “Old Black Joe.” Why do I weep When my heart should feel no pain? Why do I sign that my friends come not again? Grieving for forms Now departed long ago? I hear their gentle voices calling “Old black Joe.” - Chorus. Where are the hearts once so happy and so free? The children so dear that I held upon my knee? Gone to the shore Where my soul has longed to go, I hear their gentle voices calling “Old Black Joe.: - Chorus.