You ask what makes this darkey weep,
Why he like others am not gay;
What makes the tear How down his cheek.
From early morn till close or day?
My story, darkies, you shall hear.
For in my memory fresh it dwells,
Twill cause you all to drop a tear
On the grave or my sweet Kitty Wells.
While the birds were singing in the morning,
And the myrtle and the ivy were in bloom.
And the sun on the hill was a dawning.
It was then we laid her in the tomb.
I never shall forget the day
That we together roamed the dells,
I kissed her cheek and named the day
That I should marry Kitty Wells;
But death came in my cabin door.
And took from me my joy and pride;
And when I round she was no more.
Then I laid my banjo down and cried.- Chorus.
I often wish that I was dead
And laid beside her in the tomb;
The sorrow that bows down my head
Is silent in the midnight gloom;
The Spring-time has no charms for me,
Though flowers are blooming in the dells,
For that bright form I do not see,
'Tis the form or my sweet Kitty Wells.- Chorus.