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Kumbaya, my lord |
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On the banks of old Lake Bistineau |
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Beneath the cypress and the moss |
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We hammered and we nailed |
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To build a raft to get across |
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And late at night by the fire |
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We sang kumbaya |
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And the spirit, the holy spirit was flowing... |
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Twilight time, New York City |
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Descending subway stairs |
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A man whistling out of tune |
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Paid a dollar for my fare |
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And we got on the same train going uptown down the tracks |
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And we sang out of tune to the clackity clack clack |
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And the spirit, the holy spirit was flowing... |
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I have seen it on a mountaintop |
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I have felt it beneath stars |
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I have felt it in a churchyard and even in some bars |
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It will make you laugh, make you cry, make your heart go ping |
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Yeah the spirit, holy spirit will make you shout and want to sing |
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That the spirit, holy spirit is flowing... |
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Kumbaya, my lord |
