Copied by permission of FIRTH, POND & CO., 547 Broadway, N. Y., publishers of the music.
I was gwan to Sandy Point de oder arternoon, Dis nigger’s heel cum’b out ob joint a running arter a coon; I thought I see’d him on a log, a lookin’ mighty quar Wen I cum’d up to de log, de coon he wasn’t dar.
Oh, come along, my Sandy boy, now come along, oh do; Oh, what will uncle Gabriel say? ya eh eh eh ya eh eh eh; What will Uncle Gabriel say, why Jinny can’t you come along too?
I blow’d de horn, I call’d de dog, and tell him for to bark; I hunt all night in de hollow log, but de coon he still keep dark; At last I hear de ole coon sneeze, de dog he fly around, And on to him he den did freeze, and pull him to the ground.
_Chorus._--Oh, come along, my Sandy boy, &c.
De coon he lay upon de ground, as stiff as any post; I knock him den upon de head, and he gabe up de ghost; I took him to de old log house, as soon as he suspire; He look’d just like a little mouse, and we roast him on de fire.
_Chorus._--Oh, come along, my Sandy boy, &c.
De niggers dey come all around, and kick up a debil of a splutter. Dey eat de coon and clar de ground, to dance de chicken flutter, Dey dance all night till de broke of day, to a tune on de old banjo, And den dey all did gwan away, before de chicken crow.
_Chorus._--Oh, come along, my Sandy boy, &c.
Copied by permission of FIRTH, POND & CO., 547 Broadway, N. Y., publishers of the music.
He led her to the altar, But the bride was not his chosen; He led her with a hand as cold As though its pulse had frozen. Flowers were crush’d beneath his tread, A gilded dome was o’er him; But his brow was damp, and his lips were pale, As the marble steps before him.
He led her to the altar, But the bride was not his chosen; He led her with a hand as cold As though its pulse had frozen.
His soul was sadly dreaming, Of one he had hoped to cherish; Of a name and form that the sacred rites, Beginning, told must perish. He gazed not on the stars and gems Of those who circled round him; But trembled as his lips gave forth The words that falsely bound him. He led her to the altar, &c.
Many a heart was praising, Many a hand was proffer’d; But mournfully he turn’d him From the greeting that was offer’d. Despair had fix’d upon his brow Its deepest, saddest token, And the bloodless cheek and stifled sigh Betray’d his heart was broken. He led her to the altar, &c.