Sweet Sunny South

THE MUSIC SENT TO ANY ADDRESS, ON RECEIPT OF 40 CENTS, BY HENRY J. WEHMAN, 50 CHATHAM STREET, NEW YORK.

Sweet Sunny South.

Take me home to the place where I first saw the light,
To the sweet sunny South, take me home,
Where the mocking-bird sung me to rest, ev’ry night—
Ah! why was I tempted to roam?
I think, with regret, of the dear home I left—
Of the warm hearts that shelter’d me then—
And I sigh for the old place again!

Take me home to the place where my little ones sleep—
Poor Massa lies buried close by;
O’er the graves of the loved ones I long to weep,
And among them to rest when I die!
None

Take me home to the place where the orange-tress grow,
To my cot in the ever-green shade,
Where the flowers, on the river’s green margin, may blow
Their sweets on the banks where we played.
The path to our cottage, they say, has grown green,
And the place is quite lonely around,
And I know that the smiles and the forms I have seen
Now lie in the dark mossy ground.

Take me home to the place where the little ones sleep—
Poor Massa lies buried close by;
O’er the greaves of the loved ones I long to weep,
And among them to rest, when I die!
None

Take me home—let me see what is left that I knew;
Can it be that the old house is gone?
The dear friends of my childhood, indeed, must be few,
And I must lament all alone.
But yet, I’ll return to the place of my birth,
Where my children have played at the door,
Where they pull’d the white blossoms that garnished the earth,
Which will echo their footsteps no more.
None

Take me home to the place where the little ones sleep—
Poor Massa lies buried close by;
O’er the graves of the loved ones I long to weep,
For the old place again do I sigh!
None

Henry J. Wehman, Song Publisher, No. 50 Chatham Street, (Up-Stairs). New York City.

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