You May Bury Me In The East But My Soul Shall Rise, Poem by Jacqueline Amos

Bury me in the East but my soul shall rise,
bury me in the West oh what a joyful noise,
hear the trumpet sound in de morning, '
lord rises me one more time,
Oh de’ side of the lord, shall never dye.
Roll, Jordan, roll lord bring me home, '
Swing low, sweet chariot
'Dust, dust and ashes
'My moth-er's took de flight and gone home';
Lord I’ se study war no more.
Lord don took my burdens before the cross.

You may bury me in the East but my soul shall rise,
You may bury me in the West oh what a joyful noise,
hear the trumpet sound in de morning, '
lord rises me one more time,
Oh da’ side of the lord, shall never dye.

He calls me by the thunder,
'Bout time she cross over,
Lord that sweet sound
Sweet low, chariot, I ‘se coming home.

You may bury me in the East but my soul shall rise,
You may bury me in the West oh what a joyful noise,
hear the trumpet sound in de morning, ' lord rises me one more time,
Oh da’ side of the lord, shall never dye.
Fare-well, farewell, my Negro child.'
Coming back soon to bring you home,
Fare-well, farewell, my Negro child,
Coming back soon to bring you home.
'D’a, the stars screaming the hierology,
de elements crying and de falling,
Da wells wash over, and the heavens cry blood.
The streams of waters drips away into blood,
Lord da returning the almighty, the almighty, God,
Blessed be the name of