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Old Folks at Home
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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 an’ down the whole creation,
Sadly I roam
Still longing for the old plantation,
An’ for the old folks at home.
Chorus:
All the world is sad and dreary,
Evrywhere I roam.
O darkies, how my heart grows weary.
Far from the old folks at home.
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All round the little farm I wander’d
When I was young;
Then many happy days I squander’d,
Many the songs I sung.
When I was playin’ with my brother
Happy was I.
O! Take me to my kind old mother
There let me live and die.
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One little hut among the bushes,
One that I love,
Still sadly to my mem’ry rushes,
No matter where I rove.
When will I see the bees ahumming,
All roun’ the comb?
When will I hear the banjo strumming,
Down in my good old home?