Stephen Foster - Old folks at home

^CWay down upon the ^FSwanee River, ^CFar, far a^Gway ^CThat's where my heart is ^Fturning ever ^CThat's where the ^Gold folks ^Cstay All up and down the ^Fwhole creation, ^CSadly I ^Groam ^CStill longing for the ^Fold plantation ^CAnd for the ^Gold folks at ^Chome

^GAll the world is ^Csad and dreary, ^Feverywhere I ^Croam ^{G C}Oh, Lordy, how my ^Fheart grows weary, ^Cfar from the ^Gold folks at ^Chome

^CAll 'round the little ^Ffarm I wandered, ^CWhen I was ^Gyoung ^CThen many happy days I ^Fsquandered, ^CMany the ^Gsongs I ^Csung ^CWhen I was playing ^Fwith my brother, ^CHappy was ^GI ^COh, take me to my ^Fkind old mother, ^CThere let me ^Glive and ^Cdie

^GAll the world is ^Csad and dreary, ^Feverywhere I ^Croam ^{G C}Oh, Lordy, how my ^Fheart grows weary, ^Cfar from the ^Gold folks at ^Chome

^COne little hut a^Fmong the bushes, ^COne that I ^Glove ^CStill sadly to my mem'ry ^Frushes, ^CNo matter ^Gwhere I ^Crove ^CWhen shall I see the ^Fbees a humming, ^CAll 'round the ^Gcomb ^CWhen shall I hear the ^Fbanjo strumming, ^CDown by my ^Ggood old ^Chome

^GAll the world is ^Csad and dreary, ^Feverywhere I ^Croam ^{G C}Oh, Lordy, how my ^Fheart grows weary, ^Cfar from the ^Gold folks at ^Chome