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lee's songbook

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Pulpit Of Sticks
Chaplain Henry C. Trumbull

O COME, ALL YE FAITHFUL

O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant,
Come ye, O come ye, to Bethlehem.
Come and behold Him, born the King of angels;
O come, let us adore Him, O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord.

True God of true God, Light from Light Eternal,
Lo, he shuns not the Virgin's womb;
Son of the Father, begotten, not created;
O come, let us adore Him, O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord.

Sing, choirs of angels, sing in exultation;
Sing, all ye citizens of heaven above!
Glory to God, all glory in the highest;
O come, let us adore Him, O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord.

See how the shepherds, summoned to His cradle,
Leaving their flocks, draw nigh to gaze;
We too will thither bend our joyful footsteps;
O come, let us adore Him, O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord.

Lo! star led chieftains, Magi, Christ adoring,
Offer Him incense, gold, and myrrh;
We to the Christ Child bring our hearts' oblations.
O come, let us adore Him, O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord.

Child, for us sinners poor and in the manger,
We would embrace Thee, with love and awe;
Who would not love Thee, loving us so dearly?
O come, let us adore Him, O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord.

Yea, Lord, we greet Thee, born this happy morning;
Jesus, to Thee be glory given;

Word of the Father, now in flesh appearing.
O come, let us adore Him, O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord.


O COME, O COME EMMANUEL

O come, O come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Wisdom from on high,
Who orderest all things mightily;
To us the path of knowledge show,
And teach us in her ways to go.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Rod of Jesse,
Free Thine own from Satan's tyranny;
From depths of hell Thy people save,
And give them victory over the grave.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Day-spring, come
And cheer our spirits by Thine advent here;
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night,
And death's dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Key of David, come,
And open wide our heavenly home;
Make safe the way that leads on high,
And close the path to misery.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, O come, great Lord of might,
Who to Thy tribes on Sinai's height
In ancient times once gave the law
In cloud and majesty and awe.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Root of Jesse's tree,
An ensign of Thy people be;
Before Thee rulers silent fall;
All peoples on Thy mercy call.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Desire of nations,
Bind in one the hearts of all mankind;
Bid Thou our sad divisions cease,
And be Thyself our King of Peace.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.


O For A Thousand Tongues To Sing

O for a thousand tongues to sing
My great Redeemer's praise,
The glories of my God and King,
The triumphs of His grace!

My gracious Master and my God,
Assist me to proclaim,
To spread through all the earth abroad
The honors of Thy name.

Jesus! the name that charms our fears,
That bids our sorrows cease;
'Tis music in the sinner's ears,
'Tis life, and health, and peace.

He breaks the power of canceled sin,
He sets the prisoner free;
His blood can make the foulest clean,

His blood availed for me.

He speaks, and, listening to His voice,
New life the dead receive,
The mournful, broken hearts rejoice,
The humble poor believe.

Hear Him, ye deaf; Him praise, ye dumb,
Your loosened tongues employ;
Ye blind, behold your Savior come,
And leap, ye lame, for joy.

In Christ your Head, you then shall know,
Shall feel your sins forgiven;
Anticipate your heaven below,
And own that love is heaven.

Glory to God, and praise and love
Be ever, ever given,
By saints below and saints above,
The church in earth and heaven.

On this glad day the glorious
Sun Of Righteousness arose;
On my benighted soul He shone
And filled it with repose.

Sudden expired the legal strife,
'Twas then I ceased to grieve;
My second, real, living life
I then began to live.

Then with my heart I first believed,
Believed with faith divine,
Power with the Holy Ghost received
To call the Savior mine.

I felt my Lord's atoning blood
Close to my soul applied;
Me, me He loved, the Son of God,
For me, for me He died!

I found and owned His promise true,
Ascertained of my part,
My pardon passed in heaven I knew
When written on my heart.

Look unto Him, ye nations, own
Your God, ye fallen race;
Look, and be saved through faith alone,
Be justified by grace.

See all your sins on Jesus laid:
The Lamb of God was slain,
His soul was once an offering made
For every soul of man.

Awake from guilty nature's sleep,
And Christ shall give you light,
Cast all your sins into the deep,
And wash the Ethiop' white.

Harlots and publicans and thieves
In holy triumph join!
Saved is the sinner that believes
From crimes as great as mine.

Murderers and all ye hellish crew
In holy triumph join!
Believe the Savior died for you;
For me the Savior died.

With me, your chief, ye then shall know,
Shall feel your sins forgiven;
Anticipate your heaven below,
And own that love is heaven.


O God, Our Help In Ages Past

O God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Our shelter from the stormy blast,
And our eternal home.

Under the shadow of Thy throne
Thy saints have dwelt secure;
Sufficient is Thine arm alone,
And our defense is sure.

Before the hills in order stood,
Or earth received her frame,

From everlasting Thou art God,
To endless years the same.

Thy Word commands our flesh to dust,
"Return, ye sons of men:"
All nations rose from earth at first,
And turn to earth again.

A thousand ages in Thy sight
Are like an evening gone;
Short as the watch that ends the night
Before the rising sun.

The busy tribes of flesh and blood,
With all their lives and cares,
Are carried downwards by the flood,
And lost in following years.

Time, like an ever rolling stream,
Bears all its sons away;

They fly, forgotten, as a dream
Dies at the opening day.

Like flowery fields the nations stand
Pleased with the morning light;
The flowers beneath the mower's hand
Lie withering ere 'tis night.

Our God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Be Thou our guard while troubles last,
And our eternal home. 


O SACRED HEAD, NOW WOUNDED

O sacred Head, now wounded, with grief and shame weighed down,
Now scornfully surrounded with thorns, Thine only crown.
Sacred Head, what glory, what bliss till now was Thine!
Yet, though despised and gory, I joy to call Thee mine.

What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered, was all for sinners' gain;
Mine, mine was the transgression, but Thine the deadly pain.
Lo, here I fall, my Saviour! 'Tis I deserve Thy place;
Look on me with Thy favor, vouchsafe to me Thy grace.

Men mock and taunt and jeer Thee, Thou noble countenance,
Though mighty worlds shall fear Thee and flee before Thy glance.
How art Thou pale with anguish, with sore abuse and scorn!
How doth Thy visage languish that once was bright as morn!

Now from Thy cheeks has vanished Their color, once so fair;
From Thy red lips is banished the splendor that was there.
Grim Death, with cruel rigor, hath robbed Thee of Thy life;
Thus Thou has lost Thy vigor, thy strength, in this sad strife.

My burden in Thy Passion, Lord, Thou hast borne for me,
For it was my transgression which brought this woe on Thee.
I cast me down before Thee, wrath were my rightful lot;
Have mercy, I implore Thee, Redeemer, spurn me not!

My shepherd, now receive me, my Guardian, own me Thine.
Great blessings Thou didst give me, O Source of gifts divine!
Thy lips have often fed me with words of truth and love,
Thy Spirit oft hath led me to heavenly joys above.

Here I will stand beside Thee, from Thee I will not part;
O Savior, do not chide me! when breaks Thy loving heart,
When soul and body languish in death's cold, cruel grasp,
Then, in Thy deepest anguish, Thee in mine arms I'll clasp.

The joy can ne'er be spoken, above all joys beside,
When in Thy body broken I thus with safety hide.
O Lord of life, desiring Thy glory now to see,
Beside Thy cross expiring, I'd breathe my soul to Thee.

What language shall I borrow to thank Thee, dearest Friend,
For this, Thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end?
Oh, make me thine forever! and should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never, outlive my love for Thee.

My Savior, be Thou near me when death is at my door;
Then let Thy presence cheer me, forsake me nevermore!
When soul and body languish, oh, leave me not alone,
But take away mine anguish by virtue of Thine own!

Be Thou my Consolation, my Shield when I must die;
Remind me of Thy Passion when my last hour draws nigh.
Mine eyes shall then behold Thee, upon Thy cross shall dwell,
My heart by faith enfold Thee: who dieth thus dies well.


O TANNENBAUM

O Tannenbaum, O Tannebaum, your branches green delight us;
O Tannenbaum, O Tannebaum, your branches green delight us.
They're green when summer days are bright;
They're green when winter snow is white.
O Tannenbaum, O Tannebaum, your branches green delight us.

O Tannenbaum, O Tannebaum, you give us so much pleasure!
O Tannenbaum, O Tannebaum, you give us so much pleasure!
How oft at Christmas tide the sight,
O green fir tree, gives us delight!
O Tannenbaum, O Tannebaum, you give us so much pleasure!


O TOUCH NOT MY SISTER'S PICTURE

Words By Mrs. E. S. Kellogg
Music By Thomas Martin Towne
1862

On the bloody field of battle one dark night, with stealthy tread,
I was prowling 'round for plunder 'mid the dying and the dead;
And roughly seized a locket, pressed upon a throbbing breast,
Words of pleasing, faintly uttered sought my purpose to arrest.

Chorus
O! touch not my sister's picture, let it lie upon my heart;
With the parting kiss I promised I would never with it part.

'Tis my dearest earthly treasure, but to you of little worth;
Would you rob a fellow soldier dying on the cold, cold earth?
Gentle Mary, thy dear image with its sweet approving smile,
As I fondly gazed upon it, kept me pure among the vile.

Lonely orphans from our childhood with no one to love beside,
She hath been my more than mother, friend and counselor and guide.
By the memory of thy mother, let me plead with the once more,
Though I but repeat the language which I vainly used before.

Final Chorus
O! touch not my sister's picture! With these words he sank to rest.
In a new-made grave I left him, with that locket on his breast.


O WORSHIP THE KING

O worship the King, all glorious above,
O gratefully sing His power and His love;
Our Shield and Defender, the Ancient of Days,
Pavilioned in splendor, and girded with praise.

O tell of His might, O sing of His grace,
Whose robe is the light, whose canopy space,
His chariots of wrath the deep thunderclouds form,
And dark is His path on the wings of the storm.

The earth with its store of wonders untold,
Almighty, Thy power hath founded of old;
Established it fast by a changeless decree,
And round it hath cast, like a mantle, the sea.

Thy bountiful care, what tongue can recite?
It breathes in the air, it shines in the light;
It streams from the hills, it descends to the plain,

And sweetly distills in the dew and the rain.

Frail children of dust, and feeble as frail,
In Thee do we trust, nor find Thee to fail;
Thy mercies how tender, how firm to the end,
Our Maker, Defender, Redeemer, and Friend.

O measureless might! Ineffable love!
While angels delight to worship Thee above,
The humbler creation, though feeble their lays,
With true adoration shall all sing Thy praise.


oh, death, please let me see

Oh, Death, please let me see
If Christ has turned his back on me.
When you were called and asked to bow,
You would not heed, 'You're too late now.'

I'll fix your feet so you can't walk;
I'll lock your jaws so you can't talk,
I'll close your eyes so you can't see,
This very hour come and go with me.


Oh, God, Protect My Boy!
See PATRIOT MOTHER'S PRAYER


OH, I'SE SO WICKED

TOPSY'S SONG

Oh, white folks, I was never born;
Aunt Sue raise me on de corn,
Send me errands night and morn -
Ching a ring, a ring a ricked.
She used to knock me on de floor,
And bang my head agin de door,
And tear my hair out by de core,
Oh! 'cause I was so wicked.
Black folks can't do naught, they say;
I guess I'll teach some how to play,
And dance about dis time ob day -
Ching a ring, a bang goes de breakdown.

Oh! Massa Clare he bring me here,
Put me in Miss Feeley's care,
Don't I make that lady stare? -
Ching a ring, a ring a ricked.
She has me taken, clothed and fed,
D den sends me up to make her bed,
When I puts de foot into de head,
Oh! I'se so awful wicked.
I'se dark Topsy, as you see;
None of your half and half for me,
Black or white it's best to be -
Ching a ring, a hop goes de breakdown.

Oh! dere is one will come and say,
"Be good, Topsy, learn to pray,"
And raise her buful hands that way -
Ching a ring, a ring a ricked!
'Tis Little Eva, kind and fair,
Says if I'se good I will go dere,
But den I tells her, "I don't care!"
- Oh! ain't I very wicked?
Eat de cake and hoe de corn,
I'se de gal that ne'er was born,
But 'spects I grow'd up one dark morn -
Ching a ring, a smash goes de breakdown.

Printed & sold, wholesale or retail, by J. H. Johnson, No. 5 N. Tenth St.
Sung nightly by Mrs. Howard at the City Museum, in "Uncle Tom's Cabin."


Oh! massa's gwine to washington
Lyrics By Edmund Kirke
Music By C.S. Brainard
1862

Hark! darkies, hark! it am de drum
Dat calls ole Massa 'way from hum,
Wid powder-pouch and loaded gun,
To drive old Abe from Washington;

Chorus
Oh! Massa's gwine to Washington,
So clare de way for Washington,
Oh! wont dis darky hab sum fun,
When Massa's gwine to Washington!
Oh! Massa's gwine to Washington,
So clare de way for Washington,

Soprano: 
Oh! wont dis darky hab sum fun,
When Massa's gwine to Washington!

Alto:
Oh! long afore de mornin' sun
Ole Massa's gwine to Washington!

Tenor:
Oh! wont dis darky cut and run,
When Massa's gets to Washington!

Bass:
Ole Abe will let the darkies run
When Massa gets to Washington."

Dis darky know what Massa do;
He take him long to brack him shoe,
To black him shoe and tote him gun,
When he am 'way to Washington.

Ole Massa say ole Abe will eat
De niggas all excep' de feet,
De feet may be, will cut and run,
When Massa gets to Washington,

'Dis nigga know ole Abe will save
His brudder man, de darky slave,
And dat he'll let him cut and run,
When Massa gets to Washington.

Written by Edmund Kirke, author of AMONG THE PINES ; Music by C.S. Brainard.  
Cleveland : S. Brainard & Co., 1862.


Oh, No John!

On yonder hill there stands a creature,
Who she is I do not know;
I will court her for her beauty,
She must answer yes or no:
Oh no John, No John, No John, No!

On her bosom are bunches of posies,
On her breast where flowers grow;
If I should chance to touch that posy,
She must answer yes or no:
Oh no John, No John, No John, No!

Madam I am come for to court you,
If your favor I can gain;
If you will but entertain me,
Perhaps then I might come again.
Oh no John, No John, No John, No!


My husband was a Spanish captain,
Went to sea a month ago;
The very last time we kissed and parted,
Bid me always answer no.
Oh no John, No John, No John, No!

Madam in your face is beauty,
In your bosom flowers grow;
In your bedroom there is pleasure,
Shall I view it, yes or no?
Oh no John, No John, No John, No!

Madam shall I tie your garter,
Tie it a little above your knee;
If my hand should slip a little farther,
Would you think it amiss of me?
Oh no John, No John, No John, No!

My love and I went to bed together,
There we lay till cocks did crow;
Unclose your arms my dearest jewel,
Unclose your arms and let me go.
Oh no John, No John, No John, No!

Published in 1700 as Consent at Last in Thomas D'Urfey's Wit and Mirth or Pills to Purge Melancholy.  It is also known as The Spanish Merchant's Daughter.


oH, SUSANNAH

Words And Music By Stephen Collins Foster
1848

I come from Alabama with my banjo on my knee;
I'm going to Lou'siana, my true love for to see.
It rained all night the day I left, the weather it was dry;
The sun so hot, I froze to death - Susannah, don't you cr.

Chorus
Oh, Susannah, oh, don't you cry for me
For I come from Alabama with my banjo on my knee.

I had a dream the other night when everything was still:
I thought I saw Susannah a-comin' down de hill.
De buckwheat cake was in her mouth, de tear was in her eye;
Says I, "I'm coming from the South - Susannah, don't you cry."

I jumped aboard de telegraph and trabbled down de ribber;
De 'lectric fluid magnified and killed five hundred nigger.
De bull-gine bust, de horse run off, I really thought I'd die;
I shut my eyes to hold my breath - Susannah, don't you cry.

I soon will be in New Orleans, and then I'll look around,
And when I find Susannah, I will fall upon de ground;

And if I do not find her, dis darkie surely die,
And when I'm dead and buried, Susannah, don't you cry.


OH! WASN'T SHE FOND OF HER GREENS!

I once went courting a lady,
She went by the name of Jane Bell.
All other girls, sure, she'd surpass;
The truth unto you I will tell.
Vegetarians! they say, is all my eye!
But to purchase meat Jane had the means;
But, when she went to market, she'd buy
About eight or nine bunches of greens.

Chorus
Oh! wasn't she fond of her greens, oh, my oh!

We went for a walk t'other day,
The weather it was very fine;
We stopped in a field, on our way,
And there we sat down for to dine.
In a basket, we had a nice cake - 
All lovers, take this as a moral:
Instead of us eating the cake,
She laid a bowl out of cock-sorrel.

She was a very nice girl for all that,
And her mother often would say
If she wanted to look well and get fat,
She must take meat, in a moderate way.
It's true she'd a good appetite,
The envy of Kings and of Queens;
She'd often wake up, in the night,
And begin to sing out for her greens.

A vegetarian she'd been for some years -
No animal's food would she eat;
How wonderful strange it appears
That she could exist without meat!
For her breakfast, she'd take water cresses,
For her dinner, have flour and beans;
And for her tea, take mustard and cress,
For her supper, take nothing but greens,

Sometimes, by the way of a treat,
A banana she'd take for her lunch;
She said a banana was sweet,
And I've seen her devour a bunch.
Sometimes to the play we would go,
And sit in a box, near the scenes,
And, by way of a nosegay she'd throw
To the actors some bunches of greens.

Now we are married, and settled in life,
The old gal behaves very kind;
And, when I go home of a night,
There plenty of greens I can find.
Since marriage, she's taken to meat;
How wonderful strange it seems!
And sometimes, by the way of a treat,
She has a little fat meat with her greens.

H. DE MARSAN, Publisher.  54 Chatham Street, New York.


OLD 100th

Praise God from whom all blessings flow,
Praise him, all creatures here below;
Praise him above, ye heavenly host,
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.


OLD ABE HAS GONE AND DID IT, BOYS!

Words By Sanford Fillmore Bennett
Music By Joseph Philbrick Webster
1862

O, ye niggers, come along, for I's gwine to sing a song,
An' I warn you dat you keep it mighty still;
But dis darkey hear dem say his own self dis berry day,
Dat Ole Abe had went an' gone and sign'd de bill.

Chorus
Yes, Ole Abe has gone an' did it, boys! Glory, hallelujerum!
Ole Abe has gone an' did it, boys! Oh! Glory!
Ole Abe has gone an' did it, boys, he's signed de confiscation laws,
Liberty an' freedom ours! Oh! Glory!

Now I tell you, by de way, Massa Femont first did say,
In Missouri, where de bellion was so strong,
Dat de nigger must be free, but Abe didn't jes agree,
So he "modify," an' dat we t'ink was wrong.

Massa Burnside take de view dat de nigger am as true
As de white folks, or as any oder man;
So he nebber dribe us back when de hound was on our track,
An' de Lord stan' by him ebry time he plan.

But MeClellan tho't de way was to hab de niggers stay,
Diggin' trenches for de rebels, in de sun,
While de Yankee sojers work with de shovel and de dirt,
When dey ought to use de saber an' de gun.

Massa Hunter did contend dat de Government depend
On de nigger with his pickaxe an' his spade;
Dat de Yankee boys could fight, but dey nebber t'ink it right,
For to take up diggin' ditches as a trade.

I s'pose de white folks know dat ole Massa Colyer go,
For to teach de niggers how to write an' read;
But dat Stanley, Linkum send, to de people did contend,
Dat ob such a ting we niggers hab no need.

O, de niggers like to tell, Massa Halleck, mighty well,
When de rebels dere at Corinth run away;
But ob course dat couldn't be, when his "Order Number T'ree,"
Dribe de niggers out beyon' de lines to stay.

O, ye niggers, let us sing Hallelujah to de King,
Dat de Lord may bless de Yankee sogers brave!
O, I t'ink I hear dey'r song, as dey proudly march along,
To redeem de poor an' broken-hearted slave.

Bress de Lord forebermore, for we almos' see de shore
Ob de happy land ob Canaan in sight!
An' our eyes, dat look in tears through de long an' bitter years,
Catch de gleamin' ob de comin' ob de light!


OLD ABE LIES SICK
To the tune of THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME

Old Abe lies sick, Old Abe lies sick, Old Abe lies sick in bed.
He's a lyin' dog, he's a cryin' dog, with murder in his head.
Old Abe lies sick, Old Abe lies sick, Old Abe lies sick in bed.
He's a lyin' dog, he's a cryin' dog, with murder in his head.

Jeff Davis rides a dapple gray, Abe Lincoln rides a mule.
Jeff Davis is a gentleman, Abe Lincoln is a fool.
Jeff Davis rides a dapple gray, Abe Lincoln rides a mule.
Jeff Davis is a gentleman, Abe Lincoln is a fool.


the old arm chair
Words By Eliza Cook
Music By Henry Russell
1840

I love it, I love it, and who shall dare,
To chide me for loving that old arm chair.
I've treasured it long as a holy prize,
I've bedew'd it with tears, and embalm'd it with sighs;
'Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart,
Not a tie will break, not a link will start.
Would ye learn the spell, a mother sat there,
And a sacred thing is that old arm chair.

I sat and watch'd her many a day

When her eye grew dim and her locks were gray;
And I almost worship'd her when she smil'd
And turn'd from her Bible to bless her child.
Years rolled on, but the last one sped,
My idol was shattered, my earth star fled,
I learnt how much the heart can bear,
When I saw her die in that old arm chair.

'Tis past, 'tis past, but I gaze on it now,
With quivering breath and throbbing brow.
'Twas there she nursed me, 'twas there she died,
And memory flows with lava tide.
Say it is folly and deem me weak,
While the scalding drops start down my cheek,
But I love it, I love it, and cannot tear
My soul from a mother's old arm chair.

Boston: Geo. P. Reed, 1840

 


OLD BLACK JOE
Words And Music By Stephen Collins Foster
1853

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

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

Why do I weep when my heart should feel no pain?
Why do I sigh that my friends come not again,
Grieving for forms now departed long ago?
I hear their gentle voices calling "Old Black Joe".

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


OLD BOB RIDLEY

A possum sot in a simmon tree
A-lookin' cunnin' down at me;
I took a rock, all on the sly,
And I hit him zip right in the eye!
Old Bob Ridley, Oh! Old Bob Ridley, Oh!
Old Bob Ridley, Oh! How could you fool dat possum so?

Chorus
Oh! boys, come along and shuck dat corn,
Oh, boys come along to de rattle of de horn;
We'l shuck and sing till de coming of de morn,
And den we'll have a holiday.

I took him down to Polly Bell
Because I know she'd cook him well;
She made a fry, and she made a stew,
An' a roast, an' a brile, an' a barbecue!
Old Bob Ridley, Oh! Old Bob Ridley, Oh!
Old Bob Ridley, Oh! Why didn't you let dese darkies know?

When 'twas done I gin a call,
An' here come in de niggers all;
We trowed de dogs de head and feet,
An' had a-plenty left for us all to eat!
Old Bob Ridley, Oh! Old Bob Ridley, Oh!
Old Bob Ridley, Oh! We never have hear of de like before!

Old master say he never see
A possum half so fat as he!
We eat, and we danced, and we eat all night,
But couldn't eat him all 'fore de mornin' light.

Old Bob Ridley, Oh! Old Bob Ridley, Oh!
Old Bob Ridley, Oh! Now do you tell dese darkies so!

I got a half a dollar for his skin,
On which, next night, we frolic'd again,
And dat made Polly love me well,
An' a mighty purty gal was Polly Bell.
Old Bob Ridley, Oh! Old Bob Ridley, Oh!
Old Bob Ridley, Oh! De next time we'll be sure to go.

Oh! Polly's lips, dey look so sweet
When she has somefin' nice to eat;
Dat possum's fat, an dat possum's hide -
Dem was de fings made Polly my bride!
Old Bob Ridley, Oh! Old Bob Ridley, Oh!
Old Bob Ridley, Oh! Polly is de Belle of de old banjo!


THE OLD BOG HOLE

To the tune of OLD ZIP COON

The pig is in the mire, and the cow is on the grass,
And a man without a woman through the world will sadly pass;
My mother likes the ducks, and the ducks likes the drakes,
Arrah, sweet Judy Flanagan, I'd die for your sakes.
My Judy, she's as fair as the flowers on the lea,
She's neat and complete from the neck to the knee;
We met the other night our hearts to condole,
And I sat my Judy down by the old bog-hole.

Chorus
Arrah oushla mavourneen, will you marry me?
Arrah gra macree mavourneen, will you marry me?
Arrah cushla mavourneen, will you marry me?
Arrah would you fancy the bold bouncing Barney Magee?

Judy, she blushed, and she hung down her head,
Saying, "Barney, you blackguard, I'd like to get wed,
But you are such a rogue and you are such a rake…."
"Don't believe it," say I, "It is all a mistake.
To keep you genteel, I'll work at my trade;
I'll handle a hook, a shovel and spade,
And the turf I'll procure which is better than coal;
And I'll dig to my knees in the old bog-hole."

"Fine children we will have, for you must mind that,
There will be Darby, Judy, Barney and Patt;
There will be Mary so meek and Kitty so bluff,
And…" - "Stop! Stop!" she cries, "Have you not got enough?"
"I will not," says I, "nor I won't be content,
Till once I have as many as there's days in the Lent.
How the people they will stare when we go for a stroll,
When we are promenading by the old bog-hole."

"By the hokey," says she, "I can scarcely refuse,
For Barney the blarney he knows how to use;
He has bothered my heart with the picture he has drawn.
If I thought I could trust you, the job might be done."
"Holy murther," says I, "do you doubt what I say?
If I thought that you trust me, I'd swear half a day."
"Oh no," she says, "it's of no use at all."
And she gave her consent by the old bog-hole.

"Then give me your hand, my joys and delights!"
"Be aisy, you blackguard, until it's all right,
And when we are wed we'll kiss and condole,
And we will go to dig for eels in the old bog-hole."


OLD DAN TUCKER
Daniel Decatur Emmett
1843

Old Dan Tucker's a fine old man;
Washed his face in a frying pan,
Combed his hair with a wagon wheel,
And died of a toothache in his heel.

Chorus
Get out the way, Old Dan Tucker,
You too late to get yo' supper;
Supper's over and breakfast's cookin',
An' Old Dan Tucker's just standin' there lookin'.

I come to town de udder night,
I hear de noise an saw de fight;
De watchman was a-runnin 'round, 
Cryin' "Old Dan Tucker's come to town!"

Old Dan he went to the mill
To get some meal to put in the swill;
The miller he swore by the point of his knife
He never seed such a man in his life.

Old Dan and me, we did fall out,
An' what you t'ink it was about?
He tread on my corn, I kick him on de shin,
An' dat's de way dis row begin.

Old Dan begun in early life
To play the banjo and de fife;
He play the niggers all to sleep
And den into his bunk he creep.

Tucker on de wood pile - can't count 'lebben;
Put in a fedder bed - him gwine to hebben,
His nose so flat, his face so full,
De top ob his head like a bag ob wool.

High hold on de holler tree,
He poke his bill in for to see;
De lizzard cotch 'im by de snout -
He call old Tucker to pull 'im out.

Tucker, he had cash a- plenty;
Dressed to death - his old trunk empty.
To kiss de galls he thought was useless,
'Cept he kissed wid a sway-back-looseness.

Tucker is a nice old man;
He used to ride our darby ram.
It sent him wizzen down the hill -
If he hadn't got up, he'd lay there still.

Here's my razor in good order;
Magnum bonum, jis hab bought her;
Sheep shell oats, Tucker shell de corn,
I'll shabe you soon as de water get warm.

Old Dan Tucker an I got drunk;
Fell in de fire and he kick up a chunk.
De charcoal got inside he shoe -
Lor' bress you honey, how de ashes flew!

Down de road way past de stump,
Massa make me work de pump;
I pump so hard I broke de sucker,
An' dar was work for Old Dan Tucker.


I went to town to buy some goods;
I lost myself in a piece of woods.
De night was dark, I had to suffer;
It froze de heel ob Old Dan Tucker.

Tucker was a hardened sinner,
He nebber said his grace at dinner;
De ole sow squeel, de pigs did squall,
He eat de 'whole hog wid de tail and all.

I went to meetin' de udder day
To hear old Tucker preach and pray;
Dey all got drunk but me alone -
I make ole Tucker walk-jaw-bone.

Dan Tucker own'd an ole log hut
An' kept it clean as a cocoa nut.
"A tarnation appetite I've got," said Dan,
"So I'll borrow supper whenever I can."

Dan Tucker look at a pig dat run by,
An' smack his lip an' wink his eye;
But dat pig, him look in a knowin' way,
An' give a grunt as if he say:

Old Dan Tucker he come to town,
Riding a billygoat, leading a hound;
Hound dog bark and the billygoat jump,
T'rowed Old Tucker a-top of a stump.

Old Dan Tucker, he come to town,
Swinging the ladies round and round;
First to the right and then to the left,
And then to the gal that he loved best.


Old Dan Tucker clumb a tree
His Lord and Master for to see,
The limb it broke and Dan got a fall -
Never got to see his Lord at all.

And now Old Dan is a gone sucker,
And nebber can go home to supper;
Old Dan, he's had his last ride,
And his banjo's buried by his side.


OLD DOG TRAY

Words And Music By Stephen Collins Foster
1853

The morn of life is past, and evening comes at last,
It brings me a dream of a once happy day;
Of merry forms I've seen upon the village green
A-sporting with my old dog Tray.

Chorus
Old dog Tray is 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 call'd my own have vanished one by one,
The loved 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.

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.


OLD FOLKS AT HOME

Words And Music By Stephen Collins Foster
1851

Way down upon the Swanee Ribber, far, far away,
Dere's whar my heart is turning ebber, dere's whar de old folks stay.
All up and down de whole creation, sadly I roam;
Still longing for de old plantation, and for de old folks at home.

Chorus
All de world am sad and dreary eb'ry where I roam;
Oh! darkeys, how my heart grows weary,
Far from de old folks at home.

All round de little farm I wandered when I was young;
Den many happy days I squandered, many's de songs I sung.
When I was playing wid my brudder, happy was I;
Oh! take me to my kind old mudder, dere let me live and die.

One little hut among de bushes, one dat I love;
Still sadly to my memory rushes no matter where I rove.
When will I see de bees a-humming all round de comb?
When will I hear de banjo tumming down in my good home?


THE OLD GRAY MARE

The old gray mare, she ain't what she used to be,
Ain't what she used to be, ain't what she used to be;
The old gray mare, she ain't what she used to be
Many long years ago.

Chorus
Many long years ago, many long years ago;
The old gray mare, she ain't what she used to be
Many long years ago.

The old gray mare, she kicked on the whiffletree,
Kicked on the whiffletree, kicked on the whiffletree;
The old gray mare, she kicked on the whiffletree
Many long years ago.

The old gray mare stood under the apple tree,
Under the apple tree, under the apple tree,;
The old gray mare stood under the apple tree,
Many long years ago.

The old gray mare was runnin' 'round the track,
Runnin' 'round the track, runnin' 'round the track;
The old gray mare was runnin' 'round the track
Many long years ago.

The old gray mare, she lost a tooth or two,
Lost a tooth or two, lost a tooth or two;
The old gay mare, she lost a tooth or two
Many long years ago.

The old gray mare, she liked her apple jack,
Liked her apple jack, liked her apple jack;
The old gray mare, she liked her apple jack
Many long years ago.


OLD HUNDREDTH
Or,
doxology

Praise God from whom all blessings flow,
Praise him, all creatures here below;
Praise him above, ye heavenly host,
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.


Old Jessy:
Ethiopian Song
Words & Music By Charles Crozat Converse
Dedicated to Edwin Pearce Christy, Esq., of the
Celebrated Christy's Minstrels
1852

Old Jessy once was young like us,
Could hoe de cotton well;
But now he's passing away from us
Like de dewdrop on de hill.

Refrain
Den pity poor old Jessy
And wipe de teardrop from your eye,
For Jessy's gwine to leave us soon
And in de ground to lie.


Chorus
Den pity poor old Jessy
And wipe de teardrop from your eye,
For Jessy's gwine to leave us soon
And in de ground to lie.


Old Jessy's hair is gray and long,
Like de moss upon the tree;
And his teeth drop out ob de old jaw bone -
Oh, soon he will be free.

Oh, Jessy can't play de banjo,
His fingers are stiff and sore;
Dey tremble so de bones do creek -
He’ll play no nebber more.

He used to go out in de oyster boat
Far, far away from shore;
But he will nebber go out again,
Echo answers nebber more.



OLD JOE

Old Joe sat at the garden gate;
He couldn't get in, for he was too late.
He up wid his foot and kicked wid his toe;
"I want to come in!" cried Ole black Joe.

Chorus
Who's dere? - Old Joe. 
What do, Joe?
Yes do Joe.
Ole Joe kickin' up behind and before
The yellow gal kickin' up behind Ole Joe.

There's someone in the house with Dinah,
There's someone in the house I know;
There's someone in the house with Dinah,
Playin' on the old banjo.

Out came Dinah - "What you doin' here?"
"I want your gun to shoot dat bear."
"Stand back, nigger, dat game won't do."
Joe got so wild dat he burst his shoe.

Very early the next morn'
Joe went to the fields to hoe some corn.
He worked so hard that he got it done;
He finished all by the smash of the sun.

The whiskey got in Joe's head;
He staggered and fall down under a shed.
He was taken home and put to bed;
In three months after poor Joe was dead.


OLD JOE

T. Halliday
1847

A man down South I once did know;
His head it was as white as snow;
He went down to de Ball one night -
De fust gal he see she was clear out ob sight.

Chorus
Old Joe .... Old Joe ....
Old Joe kickin' up behind and befo',
And de yaller gal kickin' up behind Old Joe ...
Old Joe.

To a man at de door he den did say,
"O, who's dat color'd gal, I pray?"
"Ob de Ball dis night she is de Wenus,
Dey call her Rosa Clementenus."

Old Joe, he walked wid her aside,
And said, "Ole gal, will you be my bride?"
She says, "Dear Joe, I must confess,
I really lubs you much de best."

Dey married, but 'tis sad to say,
Dat Old Joe's wife went dead one day;
Dis gib ole nigger Joe de blue,
He turn'd around and went dead, too.

Final Chorus
Old Joe .... Old Joe ....
Joe's done kickin' up a-hind and a foe,
For Death stopped de kickin' up ob poor ole Joe.


OLD SHADY:
A CONTRABAND SONG

To the tune of AWAY DOWN SOUF

Oh! ya, ya! darkies, laugh with me,
For de white folks say old Shady's free!
Don't you see dat de jubilee is
Comin', comin'! Hail, mighty day!

Chorus
Den away, den away, for I can't stay any longer;
Hurra, hurra! for I am going home.
Den away, den away, for I can't stay any longer;
Hurra, hurra! for I am going home.

Massa got scared, and so did his lady!
Dis chile broke for ole Uncle Aby;
Open de gates out! Here's ole Shady
Comin', comin'! Hail, mighty day.

Good bye, Massa Jeff! goodbye, Missus Stevens,
'Scuse dis nigger for taking his leavins;
'Spec' pretty soon you'll see Uncle Abram's
Comin', comin'! Hail, mighty day.

Goodbye, hard work, and never any pay -
I'm goin' up Norf where de white folks stay;
White wheat-bread and a dollar a day!
Comin', comin'! Hail, mighty day.

I've got a wife, and she's got a baby
Way up Norf in Lower Canady -
Won't dey shout when dey see ole Shady
Comin', comin'! Hail, mighty day.


OLD UNCLE NED

Words And Music By Stephen Collins Foster
1848

Dere was an old nigga, dey called him Uncle Ned -
He's dead long ago, long ago;
He had no wool on de top ob de head,
De place wha de wool ought to grow.

Chorus
Den lay down de shubble and de hoe-o-o
And hang up de fiddle and de bow.
No more hard work for poor old Ned:
He's gone wha de good niggas go.
No more hard work for poor old Ned:
He's gone wha de good niggas go.

His fingers were long like de cane in de brake,
He had no eyes for to see;
He had no teefe for to eat de hoecake,
So he had to leabe dat hoecake be.

On a cold frosty morning poor Uncle Ned died;
Massa's tears down his cheeks ran like rain
'Case he knew when poor Ned was under de ground

He'd neber see his like again.


The old union wagon
By John Hogarth Lozier
1863
To the tune of WAIT FOR THE WAGON

In Uncle Sam's Dominion, in Eighteen Sixty-one,
The fight between Secession and Union was begun;
The South declared they'd have the "rights" which Uncle Sam denied.
Or in their Secesh Wagon they'd all take a ride!

Hurrah for the wagon - the old Union Wagon!
We'll stick to the wagon and all take a ride!

The makers of our wagon were men of solid wit,
They made it out of "Charter Oak" that would not rot or split.
Its wheels are of material, the strongest and the best,
And two are named the North and South, and two the East and West.

Our wagon bed is strong enough for any "revolution"
In fact, 'tis the "hull" of the "old Constitution,"
Her coupling's strong, her axle's long, and any where you get her,
No Monarch's frown can "back her down"--no Traitor can upset her.

This good old Union wagon, the nation all admired;
Her wheels had run for four score years and never once been "tired,"

Her passengers were happy as along her way she whirled,
For the good old Union Wagon was the glory of the world!

But when old Abraham took command, the South wheel got displeased
Because the public fat was gone that kept her axle greased;
And when he gathered up the reins and started on his route,
She plunged into secession and knocked some "fellers" out!

Now while in this secession mire the wheel was sticking tightly
Some Tory passengers got mad and cursed the driver slightly;
But Abraham "couldn't see it" - so he didn't heed their clatter -
There's too much black mud on the wheel, says he - "That's what's the matter."

So Abram gave them notice that in eighteen sixty-three,
Unless the rebels "dried it up," he'd set their niggers free;
And then the man that led the van to fight against his nation,
Would drop his gun and home he'd run, to fight against starvation.

When Abram said he'd free the slaves that furnished their supplies
It opened Northern traitors' mouths and Southern traitors' eyes.

"The slaves," said they, " will run away if you thus rashly free them!"
But Abram "Guessed, perhaps they'd best go home and oversee them!"

Around our Union wagon, with shoulders to the wheel,
A million soldiers rally, with hearts as true as steel;
And of all the Generals, high or low, that help to save the nation,
There's none that strikes a harder blow than General Emancipation.

Respectfully dedicated to his comrades, the 37th Indiana Regiment,
And all who love our brave soldier boys. 
Cincinnati : J. Church, Jr., 1863.


tHE OLD WOMAN'S DONKEY
To the tune of DERRY DOWN

Was there ever a woman so treated as me!
The rogues have been cropping my donkey, d'ye see;
But such things can't, sure, with impunity pass:
So I'll go to the Justice, and show him my ass.
Down, derry, derry derry, down, down.

That she's been, and for years, the best friend I e'er had,
I can swear, and the times are distressing and bad;
Then to mow off her ears so, as men mow the grass -
But I'll go to the Justice, and show him my ass.
Down, derry, derry derry, down down.

Then, the beast is so gentle, so sleeky and fat,
With a skin and so soft, too, I well may say that!
Nay, her ears, (now no more) were as polished as glass;
But I'll go to the Justice, and show him my ass.
Down, derry, derry derry, down, down.

We have rubb'd on, and scrubb'd on, for many a year,
And my ass, it was welcom'd by all, far and near.
"Pretty creature," they'd cry, "let the darling dear pass -"

But I'll go to the Justice, and show him my ass.
Down, derry, derry derry, down, down.

Then, Nanny, by nature, so modest is she,
As never with any one e'er to make free;
E'en the ears they've cut off, treated love as a farce;
But I'll go to the Justice, and show him my ass.
Down, derry, derry derry, down, down.

What his Worship will say, or his Worship will do,
I think, will be seen, and that speedily, too!
He never can let such a crime as this, pass;
So, I'll go to the Justice, and show him my ass.
Down, derry, derry derry, down, down.

What to do with the darling, I'm sure I don't know;
Curse the villains for serving a poor woman so!
But the times they are shocking, most shocking, alas!
When they can't leave alone, now, an old woman's ass!
Down, derry, derry derry, down, down.

But the Justice, the Justice will do my Nan right;
If not, there's a great man will pity her plight..
'Tis the Congressman that will not let it pass;
And I'll go to the President, and show him my ass!
Down, derry, derry derry, down, down.

H. DE MARSAN. DEALER IN SONGS TOY BOOKS &C. No. 54 CHATHAM ST. N.Y.


Old wurginny
From CHRISTY'S NIGGA SONGSTER
1850

In a little log house in ole Wurginny
Some niggas lib dat cum from Guinny,
Dere massa flog 'em berry little -
But gib 'em plenty work and wittle
Ole massa Jim real cleber body,
Ebery day he gib dem toddy,
And wen de sun fall in de riber,
Dey stop de work - an' rest de liber
Chah! chah! dat de way
De niggas spend de nite an day.

At nite dey gadder ' round de fire,
To ta'k ob tings wot hab perspire -
De ashes on der tater toss'em,
Parch de corn, and roast de possum,
An' ater dat de niggas splutter,
An' hop an' dance de chicken flutter;
Dey happy den an' hab no bodder,
Dey snug as rat in a stack a fodder.
Chah! chah! dat de way
De niggas spend de nite an day.

'Twas on de nineteenth ob October,
When de Juba dance was ober,
Dey heard a great noise dat sound like tunder,
Which made de niggas stare an wonder!
Now, Caesar says he lay a dolla,
De debil in the corn, for he heared him holler.
But Cuffee say now come see,
I bliebe it's notin but a possum up a gum tree.
Chah! chah! dat de way
De niggas spend de nite an day.

Den one nigga run an open de winda
De moon rush in like fire on tinda;
De nois sound plainer, de niggas got friten -
Dey tink 'twas a mixture of tunder an litenen.
Some great brack mob cum cross de medder,
Dey kind a roll themselves togedder,

But soon dey journ dis exhalation
Was not'in' more dan de niggas from anoder plantation.
Chah! chah! dat de way
De niggas spend de nite an day.

Dese noisy blacks surround the dwellin',
While de news one nigga got a tellin';
De rest ob 'em grin to hear ole Quashy,
Menshun de name ob General Washy.
He says dat day in York Holler,
Massa George catch ole Cornwalle;
An' seben thousand corn off shell him
Leff him not'in' more dan a cob for to tell him.
Chah! chah! dat de way
De niggas spend de nite an day.


He say den arter all dis fusion,
Dat was de end ob de rebolushun;
Dey gwanin for to keep him as dey ort to,
And dat dere massas specially say den
De niggas mout hab rum all day to be quaffin,
All de niggas den buss right out - a-laffin.
Chah! chah! dat de way
De niggas spend de nite an day.


oLD ZIP COON
George Washington Dixon, George Nichols, Or Bob Farrell
1834

Oh, old Zip Coon he is a larned skolar,
Oh, old Zip Coon he is a larned skolar;
Oh, old Zip Coon he is a larned skolar,
Sings possum up a gum tree and coony in a holler.

Chorus
Possum up a gum tree, coony on a stump,
Possum up a gum tree, coony on a stump;
Possum up a gum tree, coony on a stump,
Den over dubble trubble Zip Coon will jump.

O it's old Suky blue skin, she's in lub wid me,
I went the udder arternoon to take a dish ob tea;
What do you t'ink now Suky hab for supper,
Why, chicken foot an' possum heel, widout any butta.

Did you eber see the wild goose sailin' on de ocean?
O, de wild goose motion is a bery pretty notion;
Eb'ry time de wild goose beckons to de swaller,
You hear him google google google google google gollar.

I went down to Sandy Hollar t'other arternoon,
And the first man I chanced to meet was old Zip Coon;
Old Zip Coon, he is a natty scholar,
For he plays upon de banjo "Cooney in De Hollar".

My old Missus, she's mad wid me
'Kase I wouldn't go wid her into Tennessee;
Massa build him barn and put in de fodder,
'Twas dis t'ing and dat t'ing, one t'ing or odder.

I 'pose you heard ob de Battle New Orleans,
Whar old Gin'ral Jackson gib de British beans;
Dere de Yankee boys do de job so slick,
For dey cotch old Packenham and rowed him up de creek.

I hab many t'ings to tork about, but don' know wich comes furst,
So here de toast to old Zip Coon before he gin to rust;
May he hab de pretty girls, like de King ob old,
To sing dis song so many times 'fore he turn to mold.


de ole stingy man
From CHRISTY'S NIGGA SONGSTER
1850

Massa's such a stingy man,
And every body knows him;
He never pays his tailor's bills,
Because he always owes 'em.
Massa such a careful man,
There's no one half so knowing,
He wears his boots all down at heel,
To save the toes from going.

Chorus
Come day, go day,
I wish in my heart 'twas Monday;
I drink good whiskey all de week,
And buttermilk on Sunday.

Massa's such a stingy chap,
Once going by the rail off,

To make himself a shaving brush,
He cut de Tom-cat's tail off;
He only washes once a week
To save his soap, the miser;
But as he's got a dam black face,
Why no one's none de wiser

Massa buys all de spec -
Potatoes in de nation,
Stews 'em into Buckland starch,
And that's my daily ration.
Massa gib me such a dose
One day, it was a warmer,
I found myself so debblish stiff,
I couldn't turn de corner.

Massa says that when de Corn
Law's dead, and he'll soon heat it,
A quarteen loaf will grow so big,
'Twill take a week to eat it.

But massa's such a lazy man,
To cut the matter short now,
I'll go down in de wine cellars,
And open all de ports now.

Massa's such a free trade man,
Ebery day he worry
Me to leave off eating meat,
And live on Norfolk curry;
I tried a pailful 'tother day,
To save the grub expenses,
But was obliged to eat a leg o' pork,
To bring me to my senses.


Ole Tare River
Music: Traditional
Lyrics By J.W. Sweeney
1840

Way down in North Carolina
On de banks of Ole Tare River,
I go from dar to Alabama
For to see my ole Aunt Hannah.

Raccoon and possum got in a fray,
Fought all night until de next day;
When de day broke, de Pos cut to de hollow -
Old Coon says, "I guess I better follow."


Dey met next on de top ob de hill
For to settle dis great diffikil';
Possum seized de Coon by de tail,
Make him wish he was on a rail.


Ole nigger cum along wid his dog,
Possom cut for de hollow log;
Coon, he looked and saw dat nig,
So up da tree he den did dig.

De ole dog watch, smelt all around -
He found the Coon jest lef de ground;
Den he bark rite up de tree,
De ole Coon says, "You can't ketch me!"


De ole dog bark, de nigger blow his horn,
Old Coon begin to t'ink he was gone;
Ole nigger come, he cast up his eye
On a big limb dat coon did lie.

Nigger went to work and cut de tree down;
De ole Coon he could not be found.
De Coon cut stick, he was afraid ob de dog,
He run slep in another hollow log.

De Pos' says "Coon, get out ob dis log!
Lay rite still for I believe I hear de dog."
De nigger den cum and stopt up de hole,
And dey couldn't get out to save dar souls.


Now Miss Dinah, I'm going to leave you,
And when I'm gone, don't let it grieve you;
First to the window, den to de door,
Looking for to see de banjo.



omie wise
Or,
poor omie
Or,
naomi wise

Oh, listen to my story, I'll tell you no lies,
How John Lewis did murder poor little Omie Wise.

He told her to meet him at Adams's Springs.
He promised her money and other fine things.

So, fool-like she met him at Adams's Springs.
No money he brought her nor other fine things.

"Go with me, little Omie, and away we will go.
We'll go and get married and no one will know."

She climbed up behind him and away they did go,
But off to the river where deep waters flow.

"John Lewis, John Lewis, will you tell me your mind?
Do you intend to marry me or leave me behind?"

"Little Omie, little Omie, I'll tell you my mind.
My mind is to drown you and leave you behind."

"Have mercy on my baby and spare me my life,
I'll go home as a beggar and never be your wife."

He kicked her and choked her and turned her around,
Then pushed her in deep waters where he knew that she would drown.

He got on his pony and away he did ride,
As the corpse of little Omie went down by his side.

T'was on a Thursday morning, the rain was pouring down,
When the people searched for Omie but she could not be found.

Two boys went a-fishin' one fine summer day,
And saw little Omie's body go floating away.

They threw their net around her and drew her to the bank.
Her clothes all wet and muddy, they laid her on a plank.

Then sent for John Lewis to come to that place --
And brought her out before him so that he might see her face.

He made no confession but they carried him to jail,
No friends or relations would go on his bail.

This ballad was written about a tragedy which took place in the spring or summer of 1808. Naomi Wise, a little orphan girl, was being brought up by Squire Adams, a gent who had a pretty good name in the Deep River, Randolph County, North Carolina community as a morally decent human being. Omie, however, was seeing a ne'er-do-well named Jonathan Lewis, who never meant anything about anything serious, except some of his meanness. Jonathan Lewis courted the girl, seemingly until she became pregnant, and he decided that he'd get rid of her in some secret sort of way. He persuaded her to skip off with him and get married, then pushed her into the water and drowned her. Everyone knew that he had been mean to Omie, and when the body was taken out of the water, there was evidence that she had been beaten quite a lot.


ON JORDAN'S STORMY BANKS I STAND
Words By Samuel Stennett
From SOUTHERN HARMONY
1835

On Jordan's stormy banks I stand and cast a wishful eye
To Canaan's fair and happy land where my possessions lie.
O the transporting, rapt'rous scene that rises to my sight!
Sweet fields arrayed in living green and rivers of delight!

There gen'rous fruits that never fail on trees immortal grow;
There rocks and hills, and brooks and vales with milk and honey flow.
All o'er those wide extended plains shines one eternal day;
There God the Son forever reigns, and scatters night away.

No chilling winds or pois'nous breath can reach that healthful shore;
Sickness and sorrow, pain and death, are felt and feared no more.
When shall I reach that happy place, and be forever blest?
When shall I see my Father's face and in His bosom rest?

Filled with delight my raptured soul would here no longer stay;
Though Jordan's waves around me roll, fearless I'd launch away.
I travel to the promised land, I leave for there today;
Oh, who will come and go with me to Jordan's mighty way?


ON Lincoln'S PROCLAMATION
OF APRIL 1st, 1863

We have read the tyrant's order
And the signet to the rule,
And thought the kingly jester meant
To make an April fool,
For we knew that nothing better
Than a joke in such a strain.
Could e'er be made to emanate
From his degraded brain;
For he orders every man and child
In palace or in cot,
To fast and pray on such a day;
To fast and pray for what!

To bend devoutly on your knees
To mock Almighty God!
Insult him with hypocrisy,
And court his angry rod;
To ask that God to be unjust
Who rules infinite space,
To ask Jehovah's blighting curse
Upon his chosen race;
To ask of God to hallow crime!
Oh! horrid impious thought!
The tyrant asks - the heart replies
To fast and pray for what!

To ask Almighty God to bless
A despot's rule of crime,
To ask that he will bring distress
On a more Christian clime,
To ask that murder, rapine, blood

May meet with more success;
That the noblest, fairest land on earth
Be made a wilderness;
To ask that pure and holy God
To bless his guilty plans,
And with approval sanctify
The tyrant's blood washed hands!

Pray that a mother's prayer be lost
When dragged from home in chains:
The orphan's cry ascend unheard
When weeping it complains;
Pray that the tyrant's iron bands
May rust on maiden forms,
And that his galling manacles
May bruise their fair white arms:
Pray that their tender voices die,
Their tears in torrents pour,
And that their bleaching bones may strew
The gloomy dungeons floor.

Pray for a rack - a guillotine
On which to lash the free,
That the music of their torture
And their cries of agony
May mingle with the stifled sob
Of women's broken heart,
To sate the maniac tyrant's soul
And blunt remorse's dart.
Pray for more women searchers,
With their coward hireling band
To degrade a helpless people
And insult a fallen land.

Dare you - minion though you be,
Exempt from human laws,
Dare you ask Almighty God
To enlist in such a cause!
Dare you ask the Holy one
To write his name in crime,

To write his name in guilt and shame,
In basely serving time.
Oh! is there in our native State
A soul so black and base,
As to hurl such mocking insult
Into Jehovah's face!

Then Father in Heaven hear our pray'r,
The wail of the oppressed,
Lend energy to our despair
And strength to the distressed,
And as from dungeons damp and cold,
Thy children cry to Thee,
Oh! nerve our arms and steel our hearts
That we may yet be free,
Then teach us all some fitting words
To offer on that day
When for success to SOUTHERN ARMS

We gladly fast and pray.

Oh! God to thee thy people cry,
The God in whom they trust.
That thou wilt aid them in their need
And raise them from the dust,
And in thy vengeance 'Mighty God,
Thy lightning dagger thrust
Into that shameless tyrant's soul
And drain its sordid lust;
Hurl down his broken sceptre,
And break his blood-stained throne,
And applauding worlds shall clap their hands
To drown the tyrant's groan.

BY A MARYLANDER


opposum up a gum tree
From CHRISTY'S NIGGA SONGSTER
1850

Opposum up a gum tree
His tail has body follow
Raccoon quickly him see,
Looking out ob hollow.
Pull him down de long tail,
Opposum squall - Opposum squall,
Raccoon stick him long tail
Him louder squeak - him louder squeak.
Opposum up a gum tree - Opposum up a gum tree.

Opposum look him shy now,
Raccoon grin--raccoon grin,
Opposum wink his eye now,
Move him chin - move him chin.
Opposum down him tumble,
From de tree - from de tree,
And make him gin to grumble,
Raccoon, he, he, he! raccoon, he, he, he!
Opposum up a gum tree - Opposum up a gum tree.

Black boy lub Till Jenkins,
Tink he'll wed - tink he'll wed;
His massa chide him tinking,
Beat him head - beat him head.
Black boy him lub rum, too,
Make him groggy - make him groggy,
But massa make him cum, too,
When him floggy - when him floggy.
Opposum up a gum tree - Opposum up a gum tree.


The orphan's lament
See I'M STANDING BY YOUR GRAVE, MOTHER

<font size="5" face="Type No. 11 WF">Our Country's in Danger and<br> Calls for You Now</font><br> <font face="Type No. 1 WF">By Joseph Philbrick Webster<br> <font size="2">1862</font></font></p> <p><font face="Type No. 1 WF">Come with your sabres and&nbsp;<br> Come with your guns -<br> Our country's in danger and calls for her sons;<br> Stay not for the harvest,<br> Turn back from the plough -<br> Our Country's in danger<br> And calls for you now.</font></p> <p><font face="Type No. 1 WF">Chorus<br> We're coming, (coming, coming,)<br> We are coming, (coming, coming,)<br> We hear the loud cry;<br> We'll rescue our Country,<br> We'll save her or die.<br> We're coming, (coming, coming,)<br> We are coming, (coming, coming,)<br> We hear the loud cry;<br> We'll rescue our Country,<br> We'll save her or die.</font></p> <p><font face="Type No. 1 WF">The flag of our Country's<br> Insulted and scorn'd,<br> Her laws are dishonor'd,<br> Her fair fame is wrong'd;<br> For dear mother land,<br> Oh! who would not die<br> 'Neath Freedom's proud banner,<br> And &quot;Justice&quot; the cry.</font></p> <p><font face="Type No. 1 WF">Oh! let us rekindle<br> The patriot fires<br> That glow'd in the hearts<br> Of our brave old sires;<br> Our watchword is &quot;freedom,&quot;<br> And so we will fight<br> &nbsp;For God and our Country,<br> The Truth and the Right.</font></p> <p><font face="Type No. 1 WF">Then come from the mountain<br> And come from the glen;<br> We'll drive the rebellion<br> Far back to its den;<br> Nay, more, we'll destroy it<br> That naught shall remain<br> T'endanger the peace<br> Of our Country again.<br>


our homestead is surely
the sweetest on earth:
the song of eva
Thomas Comer
From UNCLE TOM'S CABIN
1852

Our homestead is surely the sweetest on earth,
'Tis the spot I delight in tis the place of my birth;
My Father, my Mother, with affection so strong;
And besides my delight with Old Uncle Tom,
Dear Uncle Tom, oh Good Uncle Tom.

He tells me such tales, and he sings me his songs;
He talks ever gentle, but never of his wrongs;
He calls me dear Missus, he prays morn and night;
And he follows my pastimes, with cheerful delight,
Dear Uncle Tom, oh good Uncle Tom.

 

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