My Old Kentucky Home Songtext
von Kate Smith
My Old Kentucky Home Songtext
The sun shines bright in the old Kentucky home
′Tis summer, the people are gay;
The corn top's ripe and the meadow′s in the bloom,
While the birds make music all the day;
The young folks roll on the little cabin floor,
All merry, all happy, and bright,
By'n by hard times comes a-knocking at the door,
Then my old Kentucky home, good night!
Weep no more, my lady,
Oh weep no more today!
We will sing one song for the old Kentucky home,
For the old Kentucky home far away.
They hunt no more for the 'possum and the coon,
On meadow, the hill and the shore,
They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon,
On the bench by that old cabin door;
The day goes by like a shadow o′er the heart,
With sorrow where all was delight;
The time has come when the people have to part,
Then my old Kentucky home, good night!
The head must bow and the back will have to bend,
Wherever the people may go;
A few more days and the trouble all will end
In the field where sugar-canes may grow;
A few more days for to tote the weary load,
No matter, ′twill never be light,
A few more days till we totter on the road,
Then my old Kentucky home, good night!
′Tis summer, the people are gay;
The corn top's ripe and the meadow′s in the bloom,
While the birds make music all the day;
The young folks roll on the little cabin floor,
All merry, all happy, and bright,
By'n by hard times comes a-knocking at the door,
Then my old Kentucky home, good night!
Weep no more, my lady,
Oh weep no more today!
We will sing one song for the old Kentucky home,
For the old Kentucky home far away.
They hunt no more for the 'possum and the coon,
On meadow, the hill and the shore,
They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon,
On the bench by that old cabin door;
The day goes by like a shadow o′er the heart,
With sorrow where all was delight;
The time has come when the people have to part,
Then my old Kentucky home, good night!
The head must bow and the back will have to bend,
Wherever the people may go;
A few more days and the trouble all will end
In the field where sugar-canes may grow;
A few more days for to tote the weary load,
No matter, ′twill never be light,
A few more days till we totter on the road,
Then my old Kentucky home, good night!
Writer(s): Rick Rhodes, Grant Geissman, Stephen Foster Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com