THE OLD FOLKS AT HOME

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
All the world is sad and dreary
Everywhere I roam
Oh God 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 a song 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 [bad word] No matter where I rove
When will I see the bees a-humming
All around [bad word] When will I hear the banjo [bad word] Down in my good old home