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Way down upon the Swanee River, far, far away
That s where my heart is turning ever
That s where the old folks stay
All up and down the whole creation, sadly I roam
Still longing for the old plantation
And for the old folks at home
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All the world is sad and dreary everywhere I roam
Oh darkies, how my heart grows 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
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