Hello, everyone. . . here is yet another attempt to add something to the impressive store of knowledge represented by the DT. Two more verses to Stephen Foster's "Hard Times Come Again No More" (source: John Molineux):

Oh, the cotton buds are withered and the corn stalks buried deep
In the ground still waiting for the rain
And the children are so hungry they cry themselves to sleep
Not knowing if they'll wake again

And you don't hear the banjo ring out a merry tune
In the cabin at the close of the day
And no more we'll gather at night beneath the moon
To sing all our cares away

Cheers,
Aux