Yam pounding mamas, hard workin’ bodies
Under the African sun
Self sufficient and peaceful, upright and honest
didn’t mean nobody no harm
when warriors came raidin’, burnin’ an’ devastatin’
abducting them from their farm
Sisters and cousins were bought by the dozen
To be shipped for a far away land
There were merchants of jewellery, merchants of spices
And merchants of flesh and blood
They loaded their ships for a hellbound trip
Tears wetting the African soil
Chorus:
Where’d my mom go?
Where’d my dad go?
Where’d my Bros’ go?
(they were) sailed to Dixieland
Tied down together through wind and stormy weather
Under the white man’s flag
Nawlins was the door for the pitied and poor
for those who survived the drag
to be sold to good Christians, deprived of their religion
forbidden their rhythm and roots
Chorus:
Where’d my mom go?
Where’d my dad go?
Where’d my Bros’ go?
(they were) sailed to Dixieland
When slavery fell, all should have been well
But still they belonged to the man
Plow the mule and pick cotton they were sharecropping
Tryin’ to make a living with their hands
Devil at the crossroads, sheriff on the lose
These people had to live these Blues
Chorus:
Where’d my mom go?
Where’d my dad go?
Where’d my Bros’ go?
(they were) sailed to Dixieland 3x
Sailed to Dixieland
More information
Added on 25 June 2007
Credits and thanks
Sailed to Dixieland
(Jerry LaGrange, 2004)
Yam pounding mamas, hard workin’ bodies
Under the African sun
Self sufficient and peaceful, upright and honest
didn’t mean nobody no harm
when warriors came raidin’, burnin’ an’ devastatin’
abducting them from their farm
Sisters and cousins were bought by the dozen
To be shipped for a far away land
There were merchants of jewellery, merchants of spices
And merchants of flesh and blood
They loaded their ships for a hellbound trip
Tears wetting the African soil
Chorus:
Where’d my mom go?
Where’d my dad go?
Where’d my Bros’ go?
(they were) sailed to Dixieland
Tied down together through wind and stormy weather
Under the white man’s flag
Nawlins was the door for the pitied and poor
for those who survived the drag
to be sold to good Christians, deprived of their religion
forbidden their rhythm and roots
Chorus:
Where’d my mom go?
Where’d my dad go?
Where’d my Bros’ go?
(they were) sailed to Dixieland
When slavery fell, all should have been well
But still they belonged to the man
Plow the mule and pick cotton they were sharecropping
Tryin’ to make a living with their hands
Devil at the crossroads, sheriff on the lose
These people had to live these Blues
Chorus:
Where’d my mom go?
Where’d my dad go?
Where’d my Bros’ go?
(they were) sailed to Dixieland 3x
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