Stephen C. Foster

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, Ebry where 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, Ebry where 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 mem’ry 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, Ebry where I roam, Oh! darkeys how my heart grows weary, Far from de old folks at home.

Gone are the days when my heart was young and gay, Gone are my friends from the cotton fields away, Gone from the earth to a better land I know, I hear their gentle voices calling “Old Black Joe.” I’m coming, I’m coming, for my head is bending low: I hear those gentle voices calling, “Old Black Joe.” Why do I weep when my heart should feel no pain Why do I sigh that my friends come not again, Grieving for forms Now departed long a go? I hear their gentle voices calling “Old Black Joe.” I’m coming, I’m coming, for my head is bending low: I hear those gentle voices calling, “Old Black Joe.” Where are the hearts once so happy and so free? The children so dear that I held upon my knee, Gone to the shore where my soul has longed to go. I hear their gentle voices calling “Old Black Joe.” I’m coming, I’m coming, for my head is bending low: I hear those gentle voices calling, “Old Black Joe.”

I came from Alabama wid my ban jo on my knee, I’m g’wan to Louisiana, My true love for to see, It raind all night the day I left The weather it was dry, The sun so hot I frose to death Susanna dont you cry. Oh! Susanna Oh! dont you cry for me I’ve come from Alabama wid mi ban jo on my knee. I jumped aboard de telegraph, And trabbelled down de riber, De Lectric fluid magnified, And Killed five Hundred Nigger De bullgine buste, de horse run off, I realy thought I’d die; I shut my eyes to hold my breath, Susana, dont you cry. Oh! Susana Oh! dont you cry for me I’ve come from Alabama wid mi ban jo on my knee. I had a dream de odder night, When ebery ting was still; I thought I saw Susana, A coming down de hill. The buckwheat cake war in her mouth, The tear was in her eye, Says I, im coming from de South, Susana, dont you cry. Oh! Susana Oh! dont you cry for me I’ve come from Alabama wid mi ban jo on my knee. I soon will be in New Orleans, And den I’ll look all round, And when I find Susana, I’ll fall upon the ground. But if I do not find her, Dis darkie ’l surely die, And when I’m dead and buried, Susana, dont you cry. Oh! Susana Oh! dont you cry for me I’ve come from Alabama wid mi ban jo on my knee.

I dream of Jeanie with the light brown hair, Borne, like a vapor, on the summer air; I see her tripping where the bright streams play, Happy as the daisies that dance on her way. Many were the wild notes her merry voice would pour. Many were the blithe birds that warbled them o’er: Oh! I dream of Jeanie with the light brown hair, Floating, like a vapor, on the soft summer air. I long for Jeanie with the daydawn smile, Radiant in gladness, warm with winning guile; I hear her melodies, like joys gone by, Sighing round my heart o’er the fond hopes that die:— Sighing like the night wind and sobbing like the rain,— Wailing for the lost one that comes not again: Oh! I long for Jeanie, and my heart bows low, Never more to find her where the bright waters flow. I sigh for Jeanie, but her light form strayed Far from the fond hearts round her native glade; Her smiles have vanished and her sweet songs flown, Flitting like the dreams that have cheered us and gone. Now the nodding wild flowers may wither on the shore While her gentle fingers will cull them no more: Oh! I sigh for Jeanie with the light brown hair, Floating, like a vapor, on the soft summer air.

De Camptown ladies sing dis song—Doo-dah! doo-dah! De Camp-town race-track five miles long—Oh! doo-dah day! I come down dah wid my hat caved in—Doo-dah! doo-dah! I go back home wid a pocket full of tin—Oh! doo-dah day! Gwine to run all night! Gwine to run all day! I’ll bet my money on de bob-tail nag— Somebody bet on de bay. De long tail filly and de big black hoss—Doo-dah! doo-dah! Dey fly de track and dey both cut across—Oh! doo-dah-day! De blind hoss sticken in a big mud hole—Doo-dah! doo-dah! Can’t touch bottom wid a ten foot pole—Oh! doo-dah-day! Gwine to run all night! Gwine to run all day! I’ll bet my money on de bob-tail nag— Somebody bet on de bay. Old muley cow come on to de track—Doo-dah! doo-dah! De bob-tail fling her ober his back—Oh! doo-dah-day! Den fly along like a rail-road car—Doo-dah! doo-dah! Runnin’ a race wid a shootin’ star—Oh! doo-dah-day! Gwine to run all night! Gwine to run all day! I’ll bet my money on de bob-tail nag— Somebody bet on de bay. See dem flyin’ on a ten mile heat—Doo-dah doo-dah! Round de race track, den repeat—Oh! doo-dah-day! I win my money on de bob-tail nag—Doo-dah! doo-dah! I keep my money in an old tow-bag—Oh! doo-dah-day! Gwine to run all night! Gwine to run all day! I’ll bet my money on de bob-tail nag— Somebody bet on de bay.

Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me, Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee; Sounds of the rude world heard in the day, Lull'd by the moonlight have all pass'd a way! Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song, List while I woo thee with soft melody; Gone are the cares of life's busy throng,— Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me! Beautiful dreamer awake unto me! Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea Mermaids are chaunting the wild lorelie; Over the streamlet vapors are borne, Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn. Beautiful dreamer, beam on my heart, E'en as the morn on the streamlet and sea; Then will all clouds of sorrow depart,— Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me! Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!