| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
Christy's plantation melodies. 67
My Corrie dear, beside me,
With her hand clasped in mine, A heart at rest within my breast,
In boyhood's happy prime.
Chorus. Sing! sing! and drown all grief and pain, For we will never, never see Such good old times again ! ,
And sure my home is nothing changed;
The birds are singing still, The flowers are springing where we ranged
Down by the old corn-mill. The willows waving o'er me,
Still sweetly shade my frame j But sleeping is my Corrie,
And I am not the same.
Chorus. Sing! sing! &c.
Oh ! come again, ye good old times,
Sweet, sunny, fresh and clear; And let me hear those village chimes,
And see my Corrie dear. If I could cry forever,
My tears would be in vain, My heart from hope must sever;—
They'll never come again I
Chorus. Sing! sing! &c. |
||
|
Jim Brown's Address to his Sogers*
Feller-Citizens and Brudder Sogers !—
I hab de super infilicity ob undressing a few words ob millumtary tictacs to your magnanimously insignificant and superbly extinguished corpse.
Brudder sogers! from dem days of de future dark ages, wat has passed down de ascending stream ob neber-to-be-forgotten oblibium, to de long-past mo- |
||