Jimmy was a working man
A field hand in the Phelp's Bottom fields
In the heart of the south land
Momma, don't you know his momma she cried
As his train rolled east from Louisiana
From the field rose a sound as thick as the cotton on high
A song to ease her worried mind
Steal away, Momma don't cry, he's going on home
Steal away, Momma don't cry, he's going on home to the Promise Land
Master, money was helping itself
To the pockets of this man
Miss Leigh, the meanest thing you've ever seen
With the face of a child
And they were falling down under the weight
Of the great man who waged the war of northern aggression
Freedom, freedom cried the soul of every man
Waiting on God's redemption
Steal away, Momma don't cry, he's going on home
Steal away, Momma don't cry, he's going on home to the Promise Land
The sun beat down on Jimmy as the white weapons they rise
And the fog grows thick o'er the white man's eyes
What a shame, they were digging their graves
For the sake of greed a vow in time he meant to break
Jimmy, go on down where the creek bed lay
And rest your eyes on heaven
Stay with me and you'll own the dirt that stains your hands
And covers your heart with freedom
Steal away, Momma don't cry, he's going on home
Steal away, Momma don't cry, he's going on home to the Promise Land