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lee's songbook

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Early In The Morning

Composed & Arranged by Thomas Comer
1852

Early in de morning by de break of de day
We shoulder shubble an de hoe an to de fields away;
We dig an hoe, we dig and hoe de taters and de corn,
Tobacco and de hemp we weed from early in de morn. 

CHORUS
So come so come make holiday, 
So make holiday, 
he way we'll heel and toe it out 
Will be a sight to see. 

Now Massy gib us holiday, He gib us leave to play, So darkies all come dance a bit, Now put our tools away; Come lay it out you niggers, Come hoe it down wid me, The way we'll heel and toe it out Will be a sight to see.

Boston: G. P. Reed & Co., 1852.  As sung in the popular Play of Uncle Tom's Cabin. 
Now performing with immense success at the Boston Museum
.


eIGHT MORE MILES TO LOUISVILLE

Words & Music By J. Warner
1851

I've traveled 'round this country wide seeking fortune fair;
Up and down the two coast lines, traveled everywhere.
From Portland East to Portland West, 'cross the Mason-Dixon Line;
I'm going now to the place that's best, that old hometown of mine.

Chorus
Eight more miles and Louisville will come in to my view;
Eight more miles of this old road, and I'll never more be blue.
I knew some day that I'd come back, I knew it from the start -
Eight more miles to Louisville, the hometown in my heart

Now I know there's a girl somewhere who you like best of all;
Mine lives down in Louisville - Wanda, she is called.
But she's the kind that you can't find rambling o'er the land;
I'm on my way this very day to win her heart and hand.

Now I can picture in my mind a place we'll call our home;
A cozy little hut for two, and I never more will roam.
The place that's right for that love site is in them bluegrass hills,
Where gently flows the Ohio by a place called Louisville.


Ellie Rhee
Or,
carry me back to tennessee
Septimus Winner

Sweet Ellie Rhee, so dear to me,
Is lost forever more;
Our home was down in Tennessee.
Before dis cruel war.

Chorus
Then carry me back to Tennessee,
Back where I long to be,
Among de friends of yellow corn,
To my darling Ellie Rhee.

Oh why did I from day to day,
Keep wishing to be free;
And away from my massa run away
And leave my Ellie Rhee.

They said that I would soon be free
And happy all de day.
But if dey take me back again,
I'll never run away.

The war is over now at last.
De color'd race am free,
Dat good time comin' on so fast:
I'm waiting for to see.


The Enlisted Men
See NEGRO BATTLE HYMN


epistle to the ladies
By W.E.M., Of General Lee's Army

Ye Southern maids and ladies fair, 
Of whatsoe'r degree,
A moment stop - a moment spare -
And listen unto me.

The summer's gone, the frosts have come,
The winter draweth near,
And still they march to fife and drum -
Our armies! do you hear?

Give heed then to the yarn I spin,
Who says that it is coarse?
At your fair feet I lay the sin,
The thread of my discourse.

To speak of shoes, it boots not here;
Our Q.M.'s, wise and good,
Give cotton calf-skins twice a year
With soles of cottonwood.

Shoeless we meet the well-shod foe,
And bootless him despise;
Sockless we watch, with bleeding toe,
And him sockdologise!

Perchance our powder giveth out,
We fight them, then, with rocks;
With hungry craws we craw-fish not,
But, then, we miss the socks.

Few are the miseries that we lack,
And comforts seldom come;
What have I in my haversack?
And what have you at home?

Fair ladies, then, if nothing loth,
Bring forth your spinning wheels;
Knit not your brow--but knit to clothe
In bliss our blistered heels.

Do not you take amiss, dear miss,
The burden of my yarn;
Alas! I know there's many a lass
That doesn't care a darn.

But you can aid us if you will,
And heaven will surely bless
And Foote will vote to foot a bill
For succouring our distress.

For all the socks the maids have made,
My thanks for all the brave;
And honoured be your pious trade,
The soldier's sole to save.


Eulalie
Words By H.S. Cornwell
Music By Stephen Collins Foster
1851

Blue birds linger here a while,
O'er this sacred grassy pile
Sing your sweetest songs to me,
'Tis the grave of Eulalie
Roses white around her tomb,
Gently wave and sweetly bloom
Let your silent language be,
"We will bloom for Eulalie"
Let your silent language be,
"We will bloom for Eulalie."

Streamlet chanting at her feet,
Mournful music sad and sweet
Wake her not, she dreams of me,
'Neath the yew tree Eulalie
Eulalie, but yesternight,
Came a spirit veiled in white

I knew it could be none but thee,
Bride of death, lost Eulalie.
I knew it could be none but thee,

Bride of death, lost Eulalie.

Angels, guard her with your wings,
Shield her from unholy things
Bid her dream love-dreams of me,
Till I come, sleep, Eulalie
Blue birds linger here a while,
O'er this sacred grassy pile
Sing your sweetest songs to me,
'Tis the grave of Eulalie.
Sing your sweetest songs to me,
'Tis the grave of Eulalie.

Published By Firth, Pond & Co., NY
1851


Eva to Her Papa
Words and Music by George C. Howard
1854

When your daughter's taken away
And your heart is fill'd with care;
When with Angels I shall pray
For your peace and comfort here.

Shall poor Uncle Tom be free?
Papa promise this to me.

When your little Eva's there,
Rob'd like those in spotless white;
And the conquering palm I bear,
Bless'd with love and Heaven's light,

Shall poor Uncle Tom be free?
Papa promise this to me.

Wife and children send him near,
When forever I am gone;
Papa check the falling tear,
Think upon my dying song.

Uncle Tom, Oh make him free.
Papa, Papa, do for me.

As sung by Little Cordelia Howard in Her Original Character of the Gentle Eva in Uncle Tom's Cabin; Words and Music written expressly for her by her Father; Most Affectionately Dedicated to Her Mother.

New York: Horace Waters



Sarah Knox Taylor Davis
First Wife Of Jefferson Davis

EVELINA

Way down in the valley where the lily first blows,
Where the wind from the mountain ne'er ruffles the rose,
Lives sweet Evelina, the dear little dove;
The child of the valley, the girl that I love.

Chorus
Dear Evelina, sweet Evelina,
My love for thee will never, never die.
Dear Evelina, sweet Evelina,
My love for thee will never, never die.

She's fair like the rose, like the lamb she is meek;
She never was known to put paint on her cheek.
In softest of curls hangs her raven-black hair,
And there never was need for perfumery there.

Evelina and I, one evening in June
Took a walk all alone by the light of the moon;
The stars, they shone bright, and the heavens were clear;
There I felt 'round my heart most mightily queer.

Three years have now passed and I've not got a dollar,
Evelina still dwells in that green, grassy holler.
Although I am fated to marry her never,
I've sworn that I'll love her forever and ever.


EZEKIEL SAW THE WHEEL

Negro Spiritual

Ezekiel saw a wheel a-turning way up in the middle of the air;
A wheel within a wheel a-turning way in the middle of the air.
And the little wheel turned by faith,
And the big wheel turned by the grace of God;
Ezekiel saw a wheel a-turning way in the middle of the air.

Ezekiel saw a flame a-burning way up in the middle of the air;
A flame within a flame a-burning way in the middle of the air.
And the little flame burned by faith,
And the big flame burned by the grace of God;
Ezekiel saw a flame a-burning way in the middle of the air.

 

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