Way down upon de Swanee River,
Far, far away.
Dere’s wha my heart is turning ever,
Dere’s where 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 is sad and dreary everywhere I roam,
Oh darkies, 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 with my brother,
Happy was I;
Oh, take me to my kind old mother,
Dere let me live and die.
All de world is sad and dreary everywhere I roam,
Oh darkies, 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 shall I see de bees a humming,
All round the comb?
When shall I hear the banjo strumming,
Down by my good old home?
All de world is sad and dreary everywhere I roam,
Oh darkies, how my heart grows weary,
Far from de old folks at home.
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Blowng bubbles
