A 19th c. songsheet, printed by Andrews', New York, reverses the direction given in Foster's first four lines-
I cum from Lousianna, Wid de banjo on my knee; I'm bound for Alabama, My own true lub to see. It thaw all night de week I left, De hailstone dey war dry; De sun so hot I froze alive, Susannah, don't you cry. Chorus: Oh! Susannah, you must not cry for me, I'm cum from Louisianna wid de banjo on my knee; Oh! Susannah, you must not cry for me, I'm cum from Alabama wid de banjo on my knee. 2. I stepp'd on board de lightengraph, An steer it by de trigger, My finger slip it bustified, And kill a tousand nigger. And den it was, my dearest lub, I tought dat I should die, I shut my ears to keep my breff, Susannah don't you cry. 3. I had a dream tomorrow night, When all de tings war still, I tought I saw Susannah Coming by de mill. She wore de robe ob mourning, And de tears war in her eye, Says I, here am your true lub, Susannah don't you cry. 4. I soon will be in de ole Mobile, And dare I'll look around, Oh, should I find Susannah, I shall sink into de ground. But if I so not find her Dis chile will surely die, And when I'm cold and in my grave, Susannah don't you cry.