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OUR HUT ON THE OLD PLANTATION Far away down is the good old farm, Where we darkies used to dwell, Oh! how we've often longed to see The place we loved so well; There first we saw the morning sun, As it lighted up the sky-- Oh! take us back to the sweet old spot, For there we all wish to die. Chorus.--Then darkies sing, as on we roam, And tell throughout creation, The happy times we had at home-- Our hut on the old plantation. Father and mother old now and gray, Still do hoe and shell the corn, While we, their children, work far away From the spot where were born; From our old massa 'twas hard to part, He always was so good and kind, And could we search the world all o'er His like we ne'er should find. Then darkies sing, &c. Oh! 'tis many years that we've been free, But here no longer can we stay, Our hearts they pine for our own little hut, Down in the South, far away. When will the happy time come round, When we darkies may go home, And from that blessed good old farm We never more need roam. Then darkies sing, &c. (date unknown) page from the Library of Congress "American Memory" site @nostalgia filename[ OURHUT Feb07 |
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