Two, three, four
We're gonna do a tune right now
About a story this old field worker
Told out in South Alabama
He said, me and my woman
Been working real hard
Through this Alabama?
It's all for the man
In the big white house
Who living over yonder
By the church
On a Sunday morning
You can hear us singing
On a Sunday morning
Our voices ringing
Everybody sing
Glory, glory, hallelujah
Lord, can't you hear me
Talking to you
You know, the only time
I ever heard that man pray
Well, he stood right up to the Lord
And I could hear him say
He said, Lord, my crops are dry
Whoa, I'm afraid they're gonna die
Lord, you gotta please
Gimme some water
But all I got in this whole world
Is my black hands and white cotton
Mobile lights, they're forgotten
Glory, glory, hallelujah
Lord, can't you hear me
Talking to you
A new day, it's dawning
The black night, it turns morning
Black hands, they're demanding
Some respect and understanding
A white man, black brother
They're hand in hand one another
Singing glory, glory, hallelujah
Lord, can't you hear me
Talking to you
Black hands and white cotton
Mobile lights, they're forgotten
Glory, glory, hallelujah
Lord, can't you hear me
Talking to you
Glory, glory
Glory, glory, glory now
Glory, can't you hear me talking
Glory, glory, hallelujah
Glory, glory, hallelujah
Oh, Lord, got to hear me talking
Oh, Lord, can't you hear me talking
Glory, glory...