Way down upon the Swanee River, far, far, away.
There's where my heart is turning ever,
there'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.
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 memory rushes, no matter where I roam.
When will I see the bees a-hummin' all round the comb?
When will I hear the banjo strummin' down in my good old home?
All the world is sad and dreary, everywhere I roam.
Oh, lordy, how my heart grows weary, far from the old folks at home.
There's where my heart is turning ever,
there'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.
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 memory rushes, no matter where I roam.
When will I see the bees a-hummin' all round the comb?
When will I hear the banjo strummin' down in my good old home?
All the world is sad and dreary, everywhere I roam.
Oh, lordy, how my heart grows weary, far from the old folks at home.