Author Topic: Swing Low Sweet Chariot  (Read 1689 times)

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Offline daisyxo

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Swing Low Sweet Chariot
« on: October 01, 2010, 12:33 PM »

The chorus (Swing Low, Sweet Chariot song) is obviously borrowed - but fits so well when imagined it being sung (or hummed) as the poem is being read.  I am in no way taking any credit for the song, just the verses in between.  Also, this is not a true story, just a poem I wrote many years ago (2000) that seems to fit the picture.

Swing Low, Sweet Chariot

Time is of the essence, wish the doc would hurry
momma looked at her sons and falsely smiled
holding back tears so they couldn't see
with all her strength she rocked her dying child.

Humming so softly but we knew all the words
she held him tighter for his time was near
he said listen, momma, they're up on the roof
the angels and the chariot I hear.

...Swing low, sweet chariot
...comin' for to carry me home
...Swing low, sweet chariot
...comin' for to carry me home

...I looked over Jordan and what did I see
...comin' for to carry me home
...a band of angels comin' after me
...comin' for to carry me home.

There's so many angels here for me
they said it's time for me to leave you now
momma's chest heaved as tears let loose
how she'd live without him she didn't know how.

Dear Heavenly Father, I pray to you
don't take my boy from me this night
give him a chance to grow and be loved
please God, don't show him that light.

...if you get there before I do
...comin' for to carry me home
...just tell my friends that I'm acomin' too
...comin' for to carry me home.

Don't cry momma, God heard your prayer
the angels have their job to do
but when your time comes you needn't worry
the chariot and angels will come for you, too.

The doctor rushed in but it was too late
her boy had taken his last breath of life
she held him and rocked and sang him his tune
the pain in her heart as if stabbed with a knife.

...I'm sometimes up and sometimes down
...comin' for to carry me home
...but still my soul feels heavenly bound
...comin' for to carry me home.

The devil had tried but he didn't win
her boy's soul was too faithful and strong
and she knew that when it was her time to go
proudly she'd sing her son's song.

...Swing low, sweet chariot
...comin' for to carry me home
...Swing low, sweet chariot
...comin' for to carry me home.
~ Marsha ~

"Abilities wither under faultfinding, blossom with encouragement." -- Donald A. Laird