University of Pittsburgh Edition Songs of Stephen Foster
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UNIVERSITY OF PITTSBURGH EDITION SONGS OF STEPHEN FOSTER There are two editions of this book, both published by the University of Pittsburgh Press for presentation to the armed forces. The standard edition consists of both words and music, arranged by Will Earhart and Edward B. Birge. It is available in limited numbers for the pianists and other instrumentalists of musical organizations in the services. This second edition, consisting of the words only, is intended for use by the singers of musical organiza- tions in the services. It is available in greater numbers than the standard edition. Both editions may be obtained without charge for use by the Army, Navy, Marine Corps and United Service Organizations. Commanding officers should address their requests to: The Curator, Foster Hall Collection, University of Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. STEPHEN COLLINS FOSTER The songs of Stephen Foster have become the heri- tage, not only of his native America, but of the world. Who has not heard and loved Old Folks at Home, My Old Kentucky Home, Massa's in de Cold Ground and Old Black Joe? Who can not sing them? These "old favorites" were intended to portray one race of people, one section of our country, one period in our history, yet through his genius Foster succeeded in creating songs which have leaped the boundaries of space and time and express universal thoughts and emotions. He was born near Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, on July 4, 1826, the fiftieth anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. Most of his life was spent in Pittsburgh. From an early age, he was intensely interested in music. Two of his early works, Old Uncle Ned and Oh! Susanna, were published in 1848 while he was working as a bookkeeper in Cincinnati. Oh! Susanna became the marching song of the Forty- Niners on their way to the gold fields of California. The great success of these two melodies caused him to abandon his business career and return home to Pittsburgh, to become a professional composer. He enjoyed a period of remarkable success, in which such songs as Old Folks at Home and My Old Kentucky Home were composed. Then followed a decline in his genius, his removal to New York City, and poverty. He died tragically in New York, from injuries re- ceived in a fall, on January 13, 1864, at the age of thirty-seven. In his brief lifetime, he wrote more than two hundred original songs and compositions. The best of these works, forty-one in number, are printed in this book. y STEPHEN PO STER Prepared especially for THE ARMED FORCES BY THE STAFF OF THE FOSTER HALL COLLECTION OF THE UNIVERSITY OF PITTSBURGH • • • UNIVERSITY OF PITTSBURGH PRESS 1948 ' SONGS OF STEPHEN FOSTER MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME, GOOD NIGHT! (Music and words on Page 12 in standard edition) The sun shines bright in the old Kentucky home, 'Tie summer, the darkies are gay, The corn top's ripe and the meadow's in the bloom, While the birds make music all the day. The young folks roll on the little cabin floor, All merry, all happy and bright: By'n by Hard Times comes a-knocking at the door, Then my old Kentucky Home, Good night! CHORUS Weep no more my lady, Oh! weep no more today! We will sing one song For the old Kentucky Home, For the old Kentucky Home, far away. They hunt no more for the possum and the coon, On the meadow, the hill and the shore, They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon, On the bench by the old cabin door. The day goes by like a shadow o'er the heart, With sorrow where all was delight: The time has come when the darkies have to part, Then my old Kentucky Home, Good night! The head must bow and the back will have to bend, Wherever the darkey may go: A few more days and the trouble all will end, In the field where the sugar canes grow. A few more days for to tote the weary load, No matter, 'twill never be light, A few more days till we totter on the road, Then my old Kentucky Home, Good night! OLD FOLKS AT HOME {Music and words on Page 43 in standard edition) 'Way down upon de Swanee ribber, Far, far away, Dere's wha my heart is turning ebber, Dere's wha 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, Ebrywhere 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 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 mem'ry 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 old home? SONGS OF STEPHEN FOSTER OLD BLACK JOE (Music and words on Page 61 in standard edition) 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." MASSA'S IN DE COLD GROUND (Music and words on Page 72 in standard edition) Round de meadows am a-ringing De darkeys' mournful song, While de mocking bird am singing, Happy as de day am long. Where de ivy am a-creeping O'er de grassy mound, Dare old massa am a-sleeping, Sleeping in de cold, cold ground. CHORUS Down in de cornfield Hear dat mournful sound: All de darkeys am a-weeping, Massa's in de cold, cold ground. When de autumn leaves were falling, When de days were cold, 'Twas hard to hear old massa calling, Cayse he was so weak and old. Now de orange tree am blooming On de sandy shore, Now de summer days am coming, Massa nebber calls no more. Massa made de darkeys love him, Cayse he was so kind, Now dey sadly weep above him, Mourning cayse he leave dem behind. I cannot work before tomorrow, Cayse de tear drop flow. I try to drive away my sorrow Pickin' on de old banjo. Page 4 SONGS OF STEPHEN FOSTER NELLY BLY (Music and words on Page 48 in standard edition) Nelly Bly! Nelly Bly! Bring de broom along, We'll sweep de kitchen clean, my dear, and hab a little song. Poke de wood, my lady lub, and make de fire burn, And while I take de banjo down, just gib de mush a turn. CHORUS Heigh, Nelly! Ho, Nelly! listen, lub, to me, I'll sing for you, play for you, a dulcem melody. Heigh, Nelly! Ho, Nelly! listen, lub, to me, I'll sing for you, play for you, a dulcem melody. Nelly Bly hab a voice like de turtle dove, I hears it in de meadow and I hears it in de grove. Nelly Bly hab a heart warm as cup ob tea, And bigger dan de sweet potato down in Tennessee. Nelly Bly shuts her eye when she goes to sleep, When she wakens up again her eye-balls gin to peep. De way she walks she lifts her foot, and den she brings it down, And when it lights der's music dan in dat part ob de town. Nelly Bly! Nelly Bly! Nebber, nebber sigh, Nebber bring de tear drop to de corner ob your eye, For de pie is made ob punkins and de mush is made ob corn, And der's corn and punkins plenty, lub, a-lyin' in de barn. OH! BOYS, CARRY ME 'LONG (Music and words on Page 55 in standard edition) Oh! carry me 'long; Der's no more trouble for me: I's guine to roam in a happy home Where all de darkeys am free. I've worked long in de fields; I've handled many a hoe: I'll turn my eye, before I die, And see de sugar cane grow. CHORUS Oh! boys, carry me 'long; Carry me till I die. Carry me down to de buryin' groun'. Massa, don't you cry. All ober de land I've wandered many a day, To blow de horn and mind de corn And keep de possum away. No use for me now, So darkeys, bury me low: My horn is dry, and I must lie Wha de possum nebber can go. Farewell to de boys Wid hearts so happy and light, Dey sing a song de whole day long, And dance de juba at night.