Old Folks at Home

Way down upon de Swanee Ribber,

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,

Eberywhere 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.

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 tumming,

Down in my good old home?

All de world am sad and dreary,

Eberywhere I roam;

Oh, darkeys, how my heart grows weary,

Far from de old folks at home!

Stephen Collins Foster.