Old Folks at Home (Stephen Foster) Way down upon the Swanee River, far, far away That's where my heart is turning ever That's where the old folks stay All up and down the whole creation, sadly I roam Still longing for the old plantation And for the old folks at home All the world is sad and dreary everywhere I roam Oh darkies, how my heart grows weary Far from the old folks at home All 'round the little farm I wandered, when I was young Then many happy days I squandered, many the songs I sung When I was playing with my brother, happy was I Oh, take me to my kind old mother, there let me live and die One little hut among the bushes, one that I love Still sadly to my mem'ry rushes, no matter where I rove When shall I see the bees a humming, all 'round the comb When shall I hear the banjo strumming, down by my good old home SOF
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!