My Dear Savannah Home


A. W. AUNER, SONG PUBLISHERS & PRINTER, Tenth and Race Sts., Philadelphia,Pa.

My Dear Savannah Home.

Where de balmy air is sighing,
And de roses catch de dew,
And de mocking bird am singing in de trees,
Dar’s a charming lubly city,
And I’ll eber hold it true,
I was bro’t up ’mong its butterflies and bees;
In de pastures and de fields.
I lived the whole day long,
But from all of dem ls’e been obliged to roam,
And when I think of happy times.
De merry dance and song,
I long to see my dear Savannah home.

All de sweet magnolia blossoms,
Dat was blooming in de lanes,
And de gardens dat was loaded with perfume,
All am dearer to dis darkey,
Dan de long and lebel plains,
And dar I always had enough ob roam;
When de shining moon at night,
Was looking from ce skies.
And we pushed de flat-boat from de ribber side,
And down de rippling waters whar-
De Fort Pulaski lies,
Our jolly dancing parties used to glide.

But those happy days are ober now,
De boys hab gone away,
And de cullud gals are scattered o’er de land,
Oh! de times ain’t as dey used to be,
When massa had his say,
And each plantation had its nigger band;
Near dat little cabin home,
De place whor I was born.
Dor’s a quiet, lubly spot, I’d like to see,
’Tis whar dey laid my mudder down,
One pleasant summer morn,
While songsters sang a sad and plaintive glee

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