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 there 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, how my heart is growing weary, Far from the old folks at home!
All round the little farm I wandered When I was young,
Then many happy days I squandered, Many the songs I sung.
When I was playing with my brother, Happy was I.
Oh, take me to
my kind old mother! There let me live and die.
All the world is sad and dreary, Everywhere I roam;
Oh, how my heart is growing 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 roam.
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, how my heart is growing weary, Far from the old folks at home!
