Sick, tired, overworked
Slaves pushed along
Their tears were overlooked
Except in song

“0h! Our Savior!” One cried
“Send help, dear Lord”
Then, whipped, He died
His prayers, it seemed, ignored

“Hurry to the mountain!
Your soul to save
Step into the fountain”
The preacher bade

“No water can save me
Even a flood
For slavery made me
Baptized in Blood”

“My soul is all I own
You own my skin
Please, don't make me atone
For your foul sins.”