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Old Folks at Home (Swanee River)

The document is the lyrics to the song 'Old Folks at Home' by Stephen Foster, written in 1851. The song expresses a deep longing for home and the nostalgia associated with the old plantation and family. It conveys themes of sadness and yearning for loved ones while reminiscing about happier times spent in childhood.

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0% found this document useful (0 votes)
111 views1 page

Old Folks at Home (Swanee River)

The document is the lyrics to the song 'Old Folks at Home' by Stephen Foster, written in 1851. The song expresses a deep longing for home and the nostalgia associated with the old plantation and family. It conveys themes of sadness and yearning for loved ones while reminiscing about happier times spent in childhood.

Uploaded by

momibi2924
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
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Download as PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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Old Folks at Home (Swanee River) Stephen Foster, 1851

F
7 7
C G Am C G
 ˆ ˆ ˆ 
ˆ ˆ ˆ ˆ ˆ ˆ ˆ 
Way down up on the Swa nee Riv er, far, far a way.
All up and down the whole cre a tion, sad ly I roam,
F
ˆ ˆ ˆ  ˆ
7 7
C G Am C G C
 
5

ˆ ˆ ˆ ˆ ˆ ˆ ˆ ˆ ˆ 
That's where my heart is turn ing ev er, that's where the old folks stay.
still long ing for the old plan ta tion and for the old folks at home.

ˆ  7

ˆ ˆ ˆ ˆ
9 G C F G
ˆ ˆ ˆ ˆ ˆ ˆ ˆ 
All the world is sad and drea ry ev 'ry where I roam.
F

7 7
C G Am C G C
ˆ ˆ ˆ ˆ ˆ 
13

ˆ ˆ ˆ ˆ ˆ ˆ ˆ ˆ ˆ 
Oh dear ones, how my heart grows wea ry, far from the old folks at home.

Way down upon the Swanee River, All 'round the little farm I wandered,
Far, far away. When I was young
That's where my heart is turning ever Then many happy days I squandered,
That's where the old folks stay Many the songs I sung
All up and down the whole creation, When I was playing with my brother,
Sadly I roam, Happy was I
Still longing for the old plantation Oh, take me to my kind old mother,
And for the old folks at home. There let me live and die
All the world is sad and dreary All the world ...
ev'rywhere I roam.
Oh dear ones, how my heart grows weary
Far from the old folks at home.
One little hut among the bushes,
One that I love
Still sadly to my mem'ry rushes,
No matter where I rove
When shall I see the bees a humming,
All 'round the comb
When shall I hear the banjo strumming,
Down by my good old home
All the world ...

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