In Alabam’ where I was born I chopped the cotton and I hoed the corn;
To the Rose of Alabam’ I bring my pick, my banjo and I sing:

I landed on a far sand bank, I sat upon a hollow plank;
And then I made the banjo twank for Rose of Alabammy.

Arter - d’reckly - by and by, the moon rose white as Rosy’s eye;
And like a young coon, oh, so sly I stole Rose of Alabammy.

I said "Sit down just where you please" - upon my lap she took her       ease;
"It's good to go upon the knees," said Rose of Alabamy.

The river rose, the crickets sang, the lightnin’ bug, she flaps her wings;
Den like a rope, my arms I fling 'round Rose of Alabammy.

I flew over valleys wide on wings I cut from a possum’s hide;
And landed gently by the side of Rose of Alabammy.

We hugged - how long I cannot tell - my Rosie seemed to like it well;
My banjo in the river fell, O! Rose of Alabammy.

Like alligator after prey, I jump in but it float away;
And all the while it seem to say, "Oh, Rose of Alabammy."

Now every night, come rain or shower, I hunt that banjo for an hour,
And see my sweet tobacco flower, Oh, Rose of Alabammy.

Since the day I left the farm a dusky blossom kept me warm;
But how I long for the tawny charms of Rose of Alabammy.

So fare thee well, little Liza Jane, and fare thee well, ye belles of fame;
For all your charms are put to shame by Rose of Alabammy.

A                                   D-A           D               E7-A
There’s a Yellow Rose in Texas that I am going to see;

     E7
No other soldier* knows her, no soldier* - only me.

A                            D    A       D                 E7 A
She cried so when I left her, it like to broke my heart,

       D           A    D         A       E7           A
And if I ever find her, we never more will part.

Chorus
A                                     D-A         D-E7     A      A
She’s the sweetest Rose of color this soldier* ever knew;

      E7
Her eyes are bright as diamonds, they sparkle like the dew.

              A                      D-A                               D-E7 A
You may talk about your dearest May and sing of Rosa Lee,

            D                    A        D             A           E7        A
But the Yellow Rose of Texas beats the belles of Tennessee.

Where the Rio Grande is flowing, and the starry skies are bright,
She walks along the river in the quiet summer night.
She thinks if I remember, when we parted long ago
I promised to come back again, and not to leave her so.

Oh, now I’m going to find her for my heart is full of woe;
And we’ll sing the song together that we sang so long ago.
We’ll play the banjo gaily and we’ll sing the songs of yore,
And the Yellow Rose of Texas shall be mine forever more.

And now I’m going down south for my heart is full of woe;
I’m going back to Georgia to find my Uncle Joe.
You can talk about your Beauregard and sing of Bobby Lee,
But the gallant Hood of Texas, he played hell in Tennessee.

All Quiet Along the Potomac Tonight

The Bonnie Blue Flag

Now I’ve got a gal with a wart on her chin, toes turned out and her eyes turned in;
Pretty good gal for the shape she’s in; tell me she’s comin’ out tonight.

I’ve got a gal at the top of the hill, she won’t dance but her sister will;
Moonshiner’s daughter, but I love her still; she’s comin’ out tonight.

I danced with a gal with a hole in her stockin’, and her knees kept a-knockin’, but her toes kept a-rockin’;
With her head throwed back like a pistol a-cockin’: tell me she’s comin’ out tonight.

 

Lubly Fan

C                                                          G                        C
As I was lumb’ring down the street, down de street, down de street;

                                                          G                      C
A pretty gal I chanc’d to meet; oh, she was fair to view.

Chorus

C                                                                                    G
Den, lubly Fan, will you come out tonight, will you come out tonight,
               C
will you come out tonight?

Den, lubly Fan, will you come out tonight,

       G                                      C
An’ dance by de light ob de moon.

I stopt her an’ I had some talk, had some talk, had some talk;
But her foot covered up de whole sidewalk, an’ left no room for me.

She’s de prettiest gal I’be seen in my life, seen in my life, seen in my life;
An’ I wish to de Lord she was my wife, den we would part no more.

Oh, make haste Fan, don’t make me wait, make me wait, make me wait;
I fear you’ve kept me now too late - yes, dere’s de ebening gun.

Faith’s Review and Expectation
or
Amazing Grace

D            D7           G              D
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound

        B7       E7              A
That saved a wretch like me;

  D           D7         G         D
I once was lost, but now am found;

       B7            A      D
Was blind, but now I see.

‘Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears relieved;
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils, and snares
I have already come;
‘Tis grace has brought me safe thus far,
And grace will lead me home.

And when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess within the veil
A life of joy and peace.

When we’ve been there ten thousand years,
Bright shining as the sun,
We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise
Than when we’ve first begun.

Riding A Raid

D                                             G               D
‘Tis old Stonewall the rebel that leans on his sword,

                                                  A
And while we are mounting prays low to the Lord.

        D                                G             D
Now each cavalier that loves honor and right

                            A7          D         G-D
Let him follow the feather of Stuart tonight.

Chorus
D                                         A7
Come tighten your girth and slacken your rein;

                                              D
Come buckle your blanket and holster again.

                               A7            D                 G
Try the click of your trigger and balance your blade

      D                   A7               D       G D
For he must ride sure that goes riding a raid.

Now gallop, now gallop to swim or to ford;
Old Stonewall still watching prays low to the Lord.
Good-bye dear old rebel the river’s not wide.
And Maryland’s lights in her window to guide.

There’s a man in the White House with blood on his mouth;
If there’s knaves in the North there are braves n the South.
We are three thousand horses and not one afraid,
We are three thousand sabers and not a dull blade.

Then gallop, then gallop by ravines and rocks;
Who would bar us the way take his toll in hard knocks.
For with these points of steel on the line of Penn
We have made some fine strokes and we’ll make ‘em again.

Stonewall Jackson’s Way

C
Come, stack arms men, pile on the rails

       F       C           G7
Stir up the campfire bright;

     C
No matter if the canteen fails -

                    G7                C
We’ll make a roaring fire tonight

        F                 C
Here Shenandoah crawls along,

        G7                      C
Here burly Blue Ridge echoes strong

     F                         C                     
To swell the brigades’ rousing song,

     G7                          C
Of Stonewall Jackson’s way.

We see him now, the old slouched hat couched o’er his eye askew;
The shrewd, dry smile the speech so pat, so calm, so blunt, so true.
The blue light elder knows ‘em well; says he, "That’s Banks, he’s fond of        shell.
Lord, save his soul, we’ll give him..." - well, that’s Stonewall Jackson’s         way.

Silence, ground arms, kneel all, caps off, Old Blue Light’s going to pray.
Strangle the fool that dares to scoff, Attention! It’s his way.
Appealing from his native sod, "Hear us, hear us, Almighty God;
Lay bare thine arm, stretch forth thy rod." - That’s Stonewall Jackson’s         way.

He’s in the saddle now, fall in, steady the whole brigade.
Hill’s at the ford, cut off, he’ll win his way out, ball and blade;
What matter if our shoes are worn, what matter if our feet are torn?
Quick step, we’re with him ‘ere the dawn, that’s Stonewall Jackson’s          way.

The sun’s bright lances rout the mists of morning - and by George -
Here’s Longstreet, struggling in the lists hemmed in an ugly gorge.
Pope and his Yankees, whipped before, "Bayonets and grape!" hear          Stonewall roar;
"Charge, Stuart, pay off Ashby’s score!" is Stonewall Jackson’s way.

Ah! maiden, wait and watch, and yearn for news of Stonewall’s band.
Ah! widow, read with eyes that burn, that ring upon thy hand.
Ah! widow, sew on, hope on, and pray that life shall not be all forlorn;
The foe had better ne’er been born that gets in Stonewall’s way.

Upi-Dei-Di!

G                                   C       G     D7          G
The shades of night were falling fast; Tra-la-la, tra-la-la.

                                   C               G      D7             G
The bugler blew his well-known blast, Tra-la-la-la-la.

     D7                    G                         C                   A7         D7
No matter, be there rain or snow, that bugler still is bound to blow.

Chorus
G                     D7      G
Upi-de-i de-i di! Upi di! Upi di!

                       Am D7  G
Upi de-i de-i di! Upi de-i di!

He saw as in their bunks they lay; Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,
How soldiers spent the dawning day, Tra-la-la-la-la.
"There’s too much comfort there," said he,
"And so I’ll blow ‘The Reveille’."

In nice log huts he saw the light, Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,
Of cabin fires, warm and bright, Tra-la-la-la-la.
The sight afforded him no heat,
And so he sounded "The Retreat".

On the fire he spied a pot; Tra-la-la, tra-la-la;
Choicest victuals smoking hot; Tra-la-la-la-la.
Says he, "You shan’t enjoy that stew",
So "Boots and Saddles" loudly blew.

They scarce their half-cooked meal begin, Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,
Ere orderly cries out, "Fall in!", Tra-la-la-la-la.
Then off they march through mud and rain,
P’rhaps only to march back again.

Soldiers, you are made to fight; tra-la-la, tra-la-la.
To starve all day and march all night, tra-la-la-la-la.
Perchance if you get bread and meat,
That bugler will not let you eat.

Oh, hasten then, that glorious day, Tra-la-la, tra-la-la,
When buglers shall no longer play, Tra-la-la-la-la.
When we, through peace, shall be set free
From "Tattoo," "Taps," and "Reveille."

Arkansas Traveler

G                    C         G
O, once upon a time in Arkansas,

     D7       G            A7             D7
An old man sat in his little cabin door,

        G              C                G
And fiddled at a tune that he liked to hear,

                C                D7          G
A jolly old tune that he play’d by ear.

D7      G        D7                G                 D7
It was raining hard, but the fiddler didn’t care,

     G         D7          G          D7
He saw’d away at the popular air;

                  G          D7              G      D7
Though his roof tree leaked like a waterfall,

        G                  C              D7       G
That didn’t seem to bother the man at all.

A traveler was riding by that day,
And stopped to hear him a-practicing away;
The cabin was afloat and his feet were wet,
But still the old man didn’t seem to fret.
So the stranger said, "Now the way it seems to me,
You’d better mend your roof," said he.
But the old man said, as he played away,
"I couldn’t mend it now, it’s a rainy day."

The traveler replied, "That’s all quite true,
But this, I think, is the thing for you to do:
Get busy on a day that is fair and bright,
Then patch the old roof ‘til it’s good and tight."
But the old man kept on a-playin’ at his reel,
And tapp’d the ground with his leathery heel.
"Get along," said he, "for you give me a pain;
My cabin never leaks when it doesn’t rain."

G                 C          G             D7                 G
Rock of Ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee;

           D7                 G                   D7                          G
Let the water and the blood from thy wounded side which flowed

D7    G        C        G                      D7                      G
Be of sin the double cure, cleanse me from its guilt and power.

Not the labors of my hands can fulfill thy law’s demands;
Could my zeal no respite know, could my tears forever flow,
All for sin could not atone; thou must save, and thou alone.

Nothing in my hand I bring, simply to thy cross I cling;
Naked, come to thee for dress, helpless, look to thee for grace;
Foul, I to the Fountain fly; wash me, Savior, or I die.

While I draw this fleeting breath, when mine eyelids close in death,
When I soar to worlds unknown, see thee on thy judgment throne,
Rock of Ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee.

D
Oh, ol' Zip Coon he is a larned skolar,

                             A
Oh, ol' Zip Coon he is a larned skolar;

      D
Oh, ol' Zip Coon he is a larned skolar,

                                                A              D
Sings possum up a gum tree and coony in a holler.

Chorus
D
Possum up a gum tree, coony on a stump,

G
Possum up a gum tree, coony on a stump;

D                 A            D              A
Possum up a gum tree, coony on a stump,

       D                                         A   D
Den over dubble trubble Zip Coon will jump.

O it’s ol' Suky blue skin, she's in lub wid me,
I went the udder arternoon to take a dish ob tea;
What do you tink now Suky hab for supper,
Why, chicken foot an' possum heel, widout any butta.

Did you eber see the wild goose sailin' on de ocean?
O, de wild goose motion is a bery pretty notion;
Ebry time de wild goose beckons to de swaller,
You hear him google google google google google gollar.

I went down to Sandy Hollar t’other arternoon,
And the first man I chanced to meet was ol' Zip Coon;
Ol' Zip Coon, he is a natty scholar,
For he plays upon de banjo "Cooney in De Hollar".

My old Missus, she’s mad wid me
‘Kase I wouldn’t go wid her into Tennessee;
Massa build him barn and put in de fodder,
‘Twas dis ting and dat ting, one ting or odder.

I ‘pose you heard ob de Battle New Orleans,
Whar ol' Gin'ral Jackson gib de British beans;
Dere de Yankee boys do de job so slick,
For dey cotch old Packenham and rowed him up de creek.

I hab many tings to tork about, but don' know wich comes furst,
So here de toast to ol' Zip Coon before he gin to rust;
May he hab de pretty girls, like de King ob ol',
To sing dis song so many times ‘fore he turn to mol'.

The Wayfaring Stranger

Am                  G              Am                       F                               E7
I’m just a poor, wayfaring stranger a-travelin’ through this world of woe,

                  G  Am        G       Am                           F-E7                 Am
But there’s no sickness, toil or trouble in that bright land to which I go.

Refrain
Am G     F-G                   Am                    F-G                        E7
I’m going there to see my father, I’m going there no more to roam;

                Am-G      Am                     F-E7            Am
I’m just a-going over Jordan, I am just going to my home.

I know dark clouds will gather ‘round me, I know my way is rough and steep;
But golden fields lie out before me where the angels vigil keep.
I’m going there to see my mother, she said she’d meet me when I come;
I’m just a-going over Jordan, I am just going to my home.

I’ll soon be free from every trial, my body rest beneath the sod;
I’ll drop the cross of self-denial and stand before the throne of God.
I’m going there to see my Savior, to sing his praise forevermore;
I’m just a-going over Jordan, I am just going to my home.

Somebody’s Darling

D                                                                 A7                   D                  A-D    A
Into the ward of the clean whitewashed halls where the dead slept and the dying lay,

F#                               Bm                    E7                                A       E7   A
Wounded by bayonets, sabres, and balls, somebody’s darling was borne one day.

A7              D              A7                D        G         D               A7                  D
Somebody’s darling, so young and so brave, wearing still on his sweet, yet pale face,

                D7           G        D   G             D             A7                           D
Soon to be hid in the dust of the grave, the lingering light of his boyhood’s grace.

Chorus
A7              D          A7              D
Somebody’s darling! Somebody’s pride!

G                   D          A7                 D
Who’ll tell his mother where her boy died?

Matted and damp are his tresses of gold, kissing the snow of that fair young brow;
Pale are the lips of most delicate mould, Somebody’s darling is dying now;
Back from his beautiful purple veined brow brush off the wandering waves of gold;
Cross his hands on his broad bosom now, Somebody’s darling is still and cold.

Give him a kiss, but for Somebody’s sake murmur a prayer for him, soft and low;
One little curl from its golden mates take - Somebody’s pride they were once, you know.
Somebody’s warm hand has oft rested there; was it a mother’s, so soft and white?
Or have the lips of a sister, so fair, ever been bathed in their waves of light?

Somebody’s watching and waiting for him, yearning to hold him again to her breast;
Yet there he lies with his blue eyes so dim and purple, childlike lips half apart.
Tenderly bury the fair, unknown dead, pausing to drop on his grave a tear;
Carve on the wooden slab over his head "Somebody’s darling is slumbering here."

Goin’ Back To Dixie

G                                    C                        G
I’m goin’ back to Dixie, no more I’m gwine to wander;

                                                            D
I’m goin’ back to Dixie, can’t stay here no longer.

   G                                     C                      G
I miss the old plantation, my home and my relations;

                                                  D        G
My heart turns back to Dixie, and I must go.

Chorus
G                                     C                G
I’m goin’ back to Dixie, I’m goin’ back to Dixie,

                                                      D
I’m goin’ where the orange blossoms grow;

  G                                    C                       G
I hear the children callin’, I see the sad tears fallin’,

                                                  D        G
My heart turns back to Dixie, and I must go.

I’ve hoed in fields of cotton, I’ve worked upon the river;
I used to think if I’d get off, I’d never go back - no, never.
But time’s changed the old man, his head is bending low,
His heart turns back to Dixie, and I must go.

I miss my hog and hominy, my punkin’ and red gravy,
My appetite is fadin’, so says ole Uncle Davey.
If my friends forsake me, I pray the Lord will take me -
My heart turns back to Dixie, and I must go.

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