Way down upon the Swanee River, Far, far away. That's where my heart is turning ever. That's where the old folks stay. All up and down the whole creation, Sadly I roam, Still longing for the old plantation, And for the old folks at home.
Chorus: All the world is sad and dreary, Everywhere I roam, Oh! Lordy, how my heart grows weary, Far from the old folks at home.
One little hut among the bushes, One that I love, Still sadly to my mem'ry rushes, No matter where I rove. When will I see the bees a-humming' All around the comb? When will I hear the banjo strummin' Down in my good old home?