I was raised by an old black man named Moses Jones
In a shack by a cotton patch we called home
He took the lead and plowed the sod
I lay behind just busting clods
We both worked to make that place a home

Once he told me about a girl named Jenny Lynn
He said he wondered why she fell in love with him
I said where's your jenny now
He just looked up in the clouds
The way he looked up every now and then

He said now, I'm coming, I'm coming
Never more to roam
I can feel your arms a reaching for me, Jenny
I'm coming home

One summer day we laid his soul to rest
In his faded overalls they had him dressed
But he had wanted it that way
Many times I've heard him say
Jenny would not know me in a suit and vest

Now many, many years have come and gone
When I told my boy about me and Moses Jones
About the hard times that we had
He just smiled and said, now dad
So I grabbed my old slouch hat and said

Come on all day we drove till we came to a big oak tree
There were tears in his eyes when he looked up at me
Beneath the wildflowers lay the stone
Where I'd chiseled Moses Jones
After all these years still plain enough to read

And it read, I'm coming, I'm coming
Never more to roam
I can feel your arms a reaching for me, Jenny
I'm coming home
...