Stephen Collins Foster: Verses about Time

De time is nebber dreary if de darkey nebber groans;
De ladies nebber weary wid de rattle of de bones:
Den come again Susanna by de gaslight ob de moon;
We'll tum de old Piano when de banjo's out ob tune.

Chorus:

Ring, ring de banjo! I like dat good old song,
Come again my true lub, Oh! wha you been so long?

The morn of life is past,
And ev'ning comes at last;
It brings me a dream of a once happy day,
Of merry forms I've seen
Upon the village green,
Sporting with my old dog Tray.

Chorus:
Old dog Tray's ever faithful;
Grief cannot drive him away;
He's gentle, he is kind,
I'll never, never find
A better friend than old dog Tray.

The forms I called my own
Have vanish'd one by one,
The lov'd ones, the dear ones have all pass'd away;
Their happy smiles have flown,
Their gentle voices gone,
I've nothing left but old dog Tray.

Chorus.

When thoughts recall the past,
His eyes are on me cast,
I know that he feels what my breaking heart would say;
Although he cannot speak,
I'll vainly, vainly seek
A better friend than old dog Tray

Weep no more, my lady; O, weep no more to-day!
We'll sing one song for the old Kentucky home,
For our old Kentucky home far away.

They hunt no more for the possum and the coon,
On the meadow, the hill, and the shore;
They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon,
On the bench by the old cabin door;
The day goes by, like the shadow o'er the heart,
With sorrow where all was delight;
The time has come, when the darkeys have to part,
Then, my old Kentucky home, good night!

Weep no more, my lady, etc.

The head must bow, and the back will have to bend,
Wherever the darkey may go;
A few more days, and the troubles all will end,
In the field where the sugar-canes grow;
A few more days to tote the weary load,
No matter, it will never be light;
A few more days till we totter on the road,
Then, my old Kentucky home, good night!

Weep no more, my lady; O, weep no more to-day!
We'll sing one song for the old Kentucky home,
For our old Kentucky home far away.

1 Gone are the days when my heart was young and gay,
2 Gone are my friends from the cotton fields away,
3 Gone from the earth to a better land I know,
4 I hear their gentle voices calling 'Old Black Joe.'

5 [Chorus] I'm coming, I'm coming, for my head is bending low:
6 I hear those gentle voices calling, 'Old Black Joe.'

7 [Solo] Why do I weep when my heart should feel no pain
8 Why do I sigh that my friends come not again,
9 Grieving for forms Now departed long a go?
10 I hear their gentle voices calling 'Old Black Joe.'

11 [Chorus] I'm coming, I'm coming, for my head is bending low:
12 I hear those gentle voices calling, 'Old Black Joe.'

13 [Solo] Where are the hearts once so happy and so free?
14 The children so dear that I held upon my knee,
15 Gone to the shore where my soul has longed to go.
16 I hear their gentle voices calling 'Old Black Joe.'

17 [Chorus] I'm coming, I'm coming, for my head is bending low:
18 I hear those gentle voices calling, 'Old Black Joe.'

Let us pause in life's pleasures and count its many tears,
While we all sup sorrow with the poor;
There's a song that will linger forever in our ears;
Oh, hard times come again no more.


Chorus:

'Tis the song, the sigh of the weary,
Hard times, hard times, come again no more,
Many days you have lingered around my cabin door,
Oh, hard times, come again no more.


While we seek mirth and beauty and music light and gay,
There are frail forms fainting at the door;
Though their voices are silent, their pleading looks will say
Oh, hard times come again no more.

Chorus

There's a pale drooping maiden who toils her life away,
With a worn heart whose better days are o'er:
Though her voice would be merry, 'tis sighing all the day,
Oh, hard times come again no more.

Chorus

'Tis a sigh that is wafted across the troubled wave,
'Tis a wail that is heard upon the shore,
'Tis a dirge that is murmured around the lowly grave,
Oh, hard times come again no more.

Chorus

1 Way down upon de Swanee ribber,
2 Far, far away,
3 Dere's wha my heart is turning ebber,
4 Dere's wha de old folks stay.
5 All up and down de whole creation,
6 Sadly I roam,
7 Still longing for de old plantation,
8 And for de old folks at home.

9 [Chorus] All de world am sad and dreary,
10 Ebry where I roam,
11 Oh! darkeys how my heart grows weary,
12 Far from de old folks at home.

13 [Solo] All round de little farm I wandered
14 When I was young,
15 Den many happy days I squandered,
16 Many de songs I sung.
17 When I was playing wid my brudder
18 Happy was I - .
19 Oh! take me to my kind old mudder,
20 Dere let me live and die.

21 [Chorus] All de world am sad and dreary,
22 Ebry where I roam,
23 Oh! darkeys how my heart grows weary,
24 Far from de old folks at home.

25 One little hut among de bushes,
26 One dat I love,
27 Still sadly to my mem'ry rushes,
28 No matter where I rove
29 When will I see de bees a humming
30 All round de comb?
31 When will I hear de banjo tumming
32 Down in my good old home?

33 [Chorus] All de world am sad and dreary,
34 Ebry where I roam,
35 Oh! darkeys how my heart grows weary,
36 Far from de old folks at home

While we seek mirth and beauty and music light and gay
There are frail forms fainting at the door:
Though their voices are silent, their pleading looks will say —
Oh! Hard Times, come again no more.
Let us pause in life's pleasures and count its many tears
While we all sup sorrow with the poor:
There's a song that will linger forever in our ears; —
Oh! Hard Times, come again no more.
'Tis the song, the sigh of the weary; —
Hard Times, Hard Times, come again no more:
Many days you have lingered around my cabin door;
Oh! Hard Times, come again no more.
3
There's a pale drooping maiden who toils her life away
— — With a worn heart whose better days are o'er:
Though her voice would be merry, 'tis sighing all the day —
— — Oh! Hard Times, come again no more.
Tis the song &c.
4
'Tis a sigh that is wafted across the troubled wave,
— — 'Tis a wail that is heard upon the shore,
'Tis a dirge that is murmured around the lowly grave, —
— — Oh! Hard Times, come again no more.
Tis the song &c.
'Tis the song, the sigh of the weary;
Hard Times, Hard Times, come again no more;
Many days you have lingered around my cabin door,
Oh! Hard Times, come again no more.
'Tis the song, the sigh of the weary;
Hard Times, Hard Times, come again no more;
Many days you have lingered around my cabin door,
Oh! Hard Times, come again no more.

A NEGRO MELODY.

The sun shines bright in the old Kentucky Home;
'Tis summer, the darkies are gay;
The corn-top's ripe, and the meadow's in the bloom,
While the birds make music all the day.
The young folks roll on the little cabin floor,
All merry, all happy and bright;
By-'n'-by hard times comes a-knocking at the door,-
Then my old Kentucky Home, good-night!

Weep no more, my lady,
Oh, weep no more to-day!
We will sing one song for the old Kentucky Home,
For the old Kentucky Home, far away.

They hunt no more for the possum and the coon,
On the meadow, the hill, and the shore;
They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon,
On the bench by the old cabin door.
The day goes by like a shadow o'er the heart,
With sorrow, where all was delight;
The time has come when the darkies have to part,-
Then my old Kentucky Home, good-night!

The head must bow, and the back will have to bend,
Wherever the darkey may go;
A few more days, and the trouble all will end,
In the field where the sugar-canes grow.
A few more days for to tote the weary load,-
No matter, 'twill never be light;
A few more days till we totter on the road,-
Then my old Kentucky Home, good-night!

Weep no more, my lady,
Oh, weep no more to-day!
We will sing one song for the old Kentucky Home,
For the old Kentucky Home, far away.

De time is nebber dreary
If de darkey nebber groans;
De ladies nebber weary
Wid de rattle ob de bones:
Den come again Susanna
By de gaslight ob de moon;
We'll tum de old Piano
When de banjo's out ob tune.
2
Oh! nebber count de bubbles
While der's water in de spring:
De darkey hab no troubles
While he's got dis song to sing.
De beauties ob creation
Will nebber lose der charm
While I roam de old plantation
Wid my true lub on my arm.
Ring, ring de banjo!
I like dat good old song,
Come again my true lub,
Oh! wha you been so long.
3
Once I was so lucky,
— My massa set me free,
I went to old Kentucky
— To see what I could see:
I could not go no farder,
— I turn to massa's door,
I lub him all de harder,
— I'll go away no more.
— — Ring, ring de banjo! &c.
4
Early in de morning
— Oh a lubly summer day,
My massa send me warning
— He'd like to hear me play.
On de banjo tapping,
— I come wid duleem strain;
Massa fall a napping —
— He'll nebber wake again.
— — Ring, ring de banjo! &c.
5
My lub, I'll hab to leabe you
— While de ribber's running high:
But I nebber can deceibe you —
— So dont you wipe your eye.
I's guine to make some money;
— But I'll come anodder day —
I'll come again my honey,
— If I hab to work my way.
— — Ring, ring de banjo! &c.

1 The sun shines bright in the old Kentucky home,
2 'Tis summer, the darkies are gay,
3 The corn top's ripe and the meadow's in the bloom
4 While the birds make music all the day.
5 The young folks roll on the little cabin floor,
6 All merry, all happy and bright:
7 By'n by Hard Times comes a knocking at the door,
8 Then my old Kentucky Home, good night!

9 [Chorus] Weep no more, my lady, oh! weep no more to-day!
10 We will sing one song
11 For the old Kentucky Home,
12 For the old Kentucky Home, far away.

13 [Solo] They hunt no more for the possum and the coon
14 On the meadow, the hill and the shore,
15 They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon,
16 On the bench by the old cabin door.
17 The day goes by like a shadow o'er the heart,
18 With sorrow where all was delight:
19 The time has come when the darkies have to part,
20 Then my old Kentucky Home, good-night!

21 [Chorus] Weep no more, my lady, oh! weep no more to-day!
22 We will sing one song
23 For the old Kentucky Home,
24 For the old Kentucky Home, far away.

25 [Solo] The head must bow and the back will have to bend,
26 Wherever the darkey may go:
27 A few more days, and the trouble all will end
28 In the field where the sugar-canes grow.
29 A few more days for to tote the weary load,
30 No matter 'twill never be light,
31 A few more days till we totter on the road,
32 Then my old Kentucky Home, good-night!

33 [Chorus] Weep no more, my lady, oh! weep no more to-day!
34 We will sing one song
35 For the old Kentucky Home,
36 For the old Kentucky Home, far away.

There are voices of hope that are borne on the air,
And our land will be freed from its clouds of despair,
For brave men and true men to battle have gone,
And good times, good times are now coming on.
Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!
Sound the news from the din of battle booming,
Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!
Sound the news from the din of battle booming,
Tell the people far and wide that better times are coming.
Tell the people far and wide that better times are coming.
2
Abra'm Lincoln has the army and the navy in his hands,
While Seward keeps our honor bright abroad in foreign lands;
And Stanton is a man, who is sturdy as a rock,
With brave men to back him up and stand the battle's shock.
3
Now McClellan is a leader and we'll let him take the sway,
For a man in his position, he should surely have his way.
Our nation's honor'd Scott, he has trusted to his might,
Your faith in McClellan put for we are sure he's right.
4
Generals Lyon and Baker and Ellsworth now are gone,
But still we have some brave men to lead the soldiers on;
The noise of the battle will soon have died away,
And the darkness now upon us will be turn'd to happy day.
5
Generals Sigel and Halleck they have conquered in the West,
And Burnside, victorious, he rides the ocean's breast,
The traitors and the rebels will soon meet their doom;
Then peace and prosperity will dwell in every home.
6
Captain Foote is commander of the Mississippi fleet,
For his flag he strikes and makes the traitors beat a quick retreat;
With iron-clad gun-boats he makes the rebels run,
While Grant makes our colors wave and glitter in the sun.
7
General Fremont the path-finder never lags behind,
He is gone to the mountains, new pathways to find,
His voice is for freedom, and his sword is for the right,
Then hail! noble Fremont the nation's delight.
8
From the land of the Shamrock there's stuff that never yields,
For we've brave Colonel Corcoran, and gallant General Shields;
From Meagher soon we'll hear, for we know that he is true,
And stands for the honor of the Red, White and Blue.
9
Here's health to Captain Ericsson, the Monitor and crew,
Who showed the southern chivalry a thing they never knew;
The Merrimac had slayed as St. Patrick did the toads,
Till Worden with the Monitor came into Hampton roads.