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