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 time 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 shaddersIs beginnin' jes' to fall,—Den I take de little banjoF'om its place upon de wall.
Den my fam'ly gadders roun' meIn de fadin' o' de light,Ez I strike de strings to try 'emEf dey all is tuned er-right.An' it seems we're so nigh heabenWe kin hyeah de angels singWhen de music o' dat banjoSets 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'oats 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' solaceDat 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 pleasuresO' dis life is few enough.
Now, de blessed little angelsUp in heaben, we are told,Don't do nothin' all dere lifetime'Ceptin' play on ha'ps o' gold.Now I think heaben 'd be mo' homelikeEf we'd hyear some music fallF'om a real ol'-fashioned banjo,Like dat one upon de wall.
