Way down upon the Swanee River,
Far, far away.
There's where my heart is turning ever.
There'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! Lordy, how my heart grows weary,
Far from the old folks at home.
One little hut among the bushes,
One that I love,
Still sadly to my memory rushes,
No matter where I rove.
When will I see the bees a-humming'
All around the comb?
When will I hear the banjo strumming
Down in my good old home?
All the world is sad and dreary,
Everywhere I roam,
Oh! Lordy, how my heart grows weary,
Far from the old folks at home.
Comments (0)