Swanee River |
Stephen Foster
|
Way down upon de Swanee River, Far, far away,
Dere’s wha my heart is turning ebber, Dere’s wha de old folks stay.
All up and down de whole creation Sadly I roam,
Still longing for de old plantation, And for de old folks at home.
All de world am sad and dreary, Eb-rywhere I roam;
Oh, darkeys, how my heart grows weary, Far from de old folks at home!
All round de little farm I wandered When I was young,
Den many happy days I squandered, Many de songs I sung.
When I was playing wid my brudder Happy was I;
Oh, take me to my kind old mudder! Dere let me live and die.
All de world am sad and dreary, Eb-rywhere I roam;
Oh, darkeys, how my heart grows weary, Far from de old folks at home!
One little hut among de bushes, One dat I love
Still sadly to my memory rushes, No matter where I rove.
When will I see de bees a-humming All round de comb?
When will I hear de banjo strumming, Down in my good old home?
All de world am sad and dreary, Eb-rywhere I roam;
Oh, darkeys, how my heart grows weary, Far from de old folks at home!