作曲 : Stephen Foster
 Gone are the days when my heart was young and gay,
 Gone are my friends from the cotton fields away,
 Gone from the earth to a better land I know,
 I hear their gentle voices calling “Old Black Joe.”
 I’m coming, I’m coming, for my head is bending low:
 I hear those gentle voices calling, “Old Black Joe.”
 Why do I weep when my heart should feel no pain
 Why do I sigh that my friends come not again,
 Grieving for forms Now departed long a go?
 I hear their gentle voices calling “Old Black Joe.”
 I’m coming, I’m coming, for my head is bending low:
 I hear those gentle voices calling, “Old Black Joe.”
 Where are the hearts once so happy and so free?
 The children so dear that I held upon my knee,
 Gone to the shore where my soul has longed to go.
 I hear their gentle voices calling “Old Black Joe.”
 I’m coming, I’m coming, for my head is bending low:
 I hear those gentle voices calling, “Old Black Joe.”