All My Trails

Harry Belafonte

Hush little baby, don't you cry,

You know your mother was born to die

All my trials, Lord, soon be over

Too late my brothers, too late

But never mind

All my trials, Lord soon be over

The river of Jordan is chilly and cold

It chills the body but it warms the soul,

All my trials, Lord soon be over

I've got a little book with pages three,

And every page spells liberty,

All my trials Lord, soon be over

Too late my brothers, too late

But never mind

All my trials, Lord soon be over

If living were a thing that money could buy,

You know the rich would live

and the poor would die,

All my trials Lord, soon be over

There grows a tree in Paradise,

The Christians call it the tree of life,

All my trials Lord, soon be over

Too late my brothers, too late

But never mind

All my trials, Lord soon be over

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