Fixin' to Die

I'm feeling funny in my mind, I believe I'm fixin' to die
I'm feeling funny in my mind, I believe I'm fixin' to die
Well I don't mind dying
But I'd hate to leave my children crying

Now I look over yonder to that burying ground
I look over yonder to that burying ground
Well it sure seems lonesome, Lord
When the sun goes down

There's a black smoke rising, it's rising up above my head
There's a black smoke rising, it's rising up above my head
And tell Jesus to make up my dying bed
Draft 7