Bill Monroe — Wayfaring Stranger

I am a poor, wayfaring stranger While traveling through this world below There is no toil, no sick, no danger In that fair land, to which I go I'm going home to see my mother I'm going home, no more to roam I am just going over Jordan I am just going over home I know dark clouds will hover o'er me I know my pathways rough and steep But golden fields lie out before me Where weary eyes no more will weep I'm going home to see my father I'm going home, no more to roam I am just going over Jordan I am just going over home I'll soon be free from every trial This form shall rest beneath thе sun