All twinklin' lee
Can't see the right rose when the streams abate
The old slave men might grind slow
But it grinds fine, yeah
African herbsman, why linger on?
Just concentrate, 'cause heaven lives on
Greet-I-eth slave men will look with a scorn
With a transplanted heart (yes, how quick they had to part)
(... how quick they had to part)
The remembrance of today
Is the sad feelin' of tomorrow
(... how quick ...) Oh (... part), oh yeah
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