The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #2933   Message #522084
Posted By: Mr Red
06-Aug-01 - 04:25 PM
Thread Name: Background: StephenFoster's 'Hard Times'
Subject: Lyr Add: HARD TIMES COME AGAIN NO MORE (Foster)
SCF died from falling on glass and bleeding to death. He was ill at the time, it is assumed he was spending his money on booze rather than food and he was weak from that. BUT it is open to interpretation. I did see his address and it was the Bowrie which was for people with little money, drunkards and whores etc etc. One verse is at Sidmouth with John & Pauline but the other spurious verse and transcript is :-

HARD TIMES COME AGAIN NO MORE
(Stephen Collins Foster)

While we seek mirth and beauty and music light and gay
There are frail forms fainting at the door.
Though their voices are silent their pleading looks will say
Oh! Hard times come again no more.
chorus
'Tis a song the sigh of the weary. Hard times, hard times come again no more.
Many days you have lingered around my cabin door
Oh! Hard times come again no more.

Let us pause in life's pleasures and count its many tears.
While we all sup sorrows with the poor.
There's a song that will linger for ever in our ears.
Oh! Hard times come again no more. chorus

There's a pale and drooping maiden who toils her life away
With a worn heart whose better day are o'er
Though her voice would be merry tis sighing all the day.
Oh! Hard times come again no more. chorus

'Tis a sigh that is wafted across the troubled wave
'Tis a wail heard upon the shore
'Tis a dirge that is murmured around the lowly grave
Oh! Hard times come again no more. chorus

The full words, as copyrighted by Steven Collins Foster on the 17 January 1855
the "Hard Times" are inspired by Charles Dickens (they did meet)

any other alleged S C Foster lyrics are a) apochrophal
b) sold for booze under another name c) the folk process
UK wags add spontaneous chorus of "Thar She Blows" after line 2 verse 4

verse from Pete & Stevie Geoghegan, who reckon Irish variants abound viz.

O the cotton tops are withered and the cornstalks buried deep
In this land that's waiting for the rain,
And the children are so hungry, they cry themselves to sleep
Not knowing if they'll wake again.

CIB