Fixin' To Die

(Booker T. Washington (Bukka) White)
 Feeling funny in my mind, Lord,
 I believe I'm fixing to die, fixing to die
 Feeling funny in my mind, Lord
 I believe I'm fixing to die
 Well, I don't mind dying
 But I hate to leave my children crying
 Well, I look over yonder to that burying ground
 Look over yonder to that burying ground
 Sure seems lonesome, Lord, when the sun goes down
 Feeling funny in my eyes, Lord,
 I believe I'm fixing to die, fixing to die
 Feeling funny in my eyes, Lord
 I believe I'm fixing to die
 Well, I don't mind dying but
 I hate to leave my children crying
 There's a black smoke rising, Lord
 It's rising up above my head, up above my head
 It's rising up above my head, up above my head
 And tell Jesus make up my dying bed.
 I'm walking kind of funny, Lord
 I believe I'm fixing to die, fixing to die
 Yes I'm walking kind of funny, Lord
 I believe I'm fixing to die
 Fixing to die, fixing to die
 Well, I don't mind dying
 But I hate to leave my children crying.