Oh, dere‘ s lots o’ keer an’ trouble In dis world to swaller down; An’ ol’ Sorrer‘ s purty lively In her way o’ gittin’ roun’.
Yet dere's times when I furgit em,— Aches an’ pains an’ troubles all,— An’ it's when I tek at ebenin’ My ol’ banjo f'om de wall.
‘ Bout de time dat night is fallin’ An’ my daily wu'k is done, An’ above de shady hilltops I kin see de settin’ sun;
When de quiet, restful shadders Is beginnin’ jes’ to fall,— Den I take de little banjo F'om its place upon de wall.
Den my fam'ly gadders roun’ me In de fadin’ o’ de light, Ez I strike de strings to try‘ em Ef dey all is tuned er-right.
An’ it seems we‘ re so nigh heaben We kin hyeah de angels sing When de music o’ dat banjo Sets my cabin all er-ring.
An’ my wife an’ all de othahs,— Male an’ female, small an’ big,— Even up to gray-haired granny, Seem jes’ boun’ to do a jig;
‘ Twell I change de style o’ music, Change de movement an’ de time, An’ de ringin’ little banjo Plays an ol’ hea't-feelin’ hime.
An’ somehow my th'oat gits choky, An’ a lump keeps tryin’ to rise Lak it wan'ed to ketch de water Dat was flowin’ to my eyes;
An’ I feel dat I could sorter Knock de socks clean off o’ sin Ez I hyeah my po’ ol’ granny Wif huh tremblin’ voice jine in.
Den we all th'ow in our voices Fu’ to he'p de chune out too, Lak a big camp-meetin’ choiry Tryin’ to sing a mou'nah th'oo.
An’ our th'oahts let out de music, Sweet an’ solemn, loud an’ free, ‘ Twell de raftahs o’ my cabin Echo wif de melody.
Oh, de music o’ de banjo, Quick an’ deb'lish, solemn, slow, Is de greates’ joy an’ solace Dat a weary slave kin know!
So jes’ let me hyeah it ringin’, Dough de chune be po’ an’ rough, It's a pleasure; an’ de pleasures O’ dis life is few enough.
Now, de blessed little angels Up in heaben, we are told, Do n't do nothin’ all dere lifetime ‘ Ceptin’ play on ha'ps o’ gold.
Now I think heaben‘ d be mo’ homelike Ef we‘ d hyeah some music fall F'om a real ol’ - fashioned banjo, Like dat one upon de wall.
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