In that Little Ivy Cabin in the Lane.
I'm a poor old strolling darkey,
My heart is filled with woe;
My wife and boy, my only joy,
Has left me long ago.
As I watch the moon at night,
And how it glimmers bright,
That thought seems to lay on my brain;
On the banjo he would play
And pass the time away,
In that little ivy cabin in the lane. . .
So now I'll bid you all good-by-
Oh! it makes this darkey cry-
It seems to give me sorrow and pain;
The bird that sung so 6\veet,
It ?nakes the old man greet,
In that little ivy cabiu in the lane.
I now will mention a man of fame.
Oh! now to you I'll tell;
Old Abe Lincoln is his name,
I guess you all know well;
He set this darkey free-
Oh! he filled my heart with glee-
I hope I'll see old Abe again;
For I'm going to a home.
Where the angels all do roam,
Far from the ivy cabiu in the lane.-Chorus.