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OPENING CHORUS
OF
Uncle Tom's Cabin,
Now performing at the Museum,
SUNG BY MR. BOWMAN
AND CHORUS.
EARLY in the morning,
By de break ob day,
We shoulder shovel and de hoe
And to de fields away;
We dig and hoe,—we dig and hoe
De 'taters and de corn,
Tobacco and de hemp we weed,
From early in de morn.
We dig and hoe, we dig and hoe
De 'taters and de corn,
Tobacco and de hemp we weed,
From early in the morn.
Solo—SAM,—
Now Massa gib us holiday;
He gabe us time to play;
So darkies all, come dance a bit,
Now put your tools away.
Come lay it out you niggers,
Come hoe it down with me;
The way we'll heel and toe it out
Will be a sight to see.
CHORUS.—We dig and hoe, &c.
[3]
TOPSY'S SONG.
SUNG BY
MISS WARNER AS "TOPSY,"
IN "UNCLE TOM'S CABIN."
I LIB down in the kitchen,
Where dey cook de beans
And de pork and de snassengers,
And 'taters and de greens,
A bilin' and bakein'
A fryin' and a stew;
Every sort of cooking dere
Young nigger Missus do.
De colored gents and ladies
Who feed in dat Saloon,
Dam dis nigger up and down
If she don't snarbe dem soon.
We'd de 'taters and de snassengers
And de pork and de beans
And de Brandy smash and cocktails
To wash down dar meat and greens.
[4]
MASSA IN DE COLD GROUND,
As sung by
MR. C. STRAHAN,
AND
MISS GEORGE,
In the popular Drama of "Uncle Tom's Cabin," now
performing in the Museum.
Round de meadows am a ringing
De darkeys' mournful song,
While de mocking-bird am singing,
Happy as de day am long.
Where de ivy am a creeping
O'er de grassy mound,
Dare old massa as a sleeping,
Sleeping in de cold, cold ground.
Chorus—Down in de corn-field
Hear dat mournful sound;
All de darkeys am a weeping
Massa's in de cold, cold ground.
When de autumn leaves were falling,
When de days were cold,
'Twas hard to hear old mass calling,
Cayse he was so weak and old.
Now de orange tree am blooming
On de sandy shore,
Now de summer days am coming,
Massa nebber calls no more.
Chorus—Down in de corn-field, &c.
Massa made de darkeys love him,
Cayse he was so kind,
Now dey sadly weep above him,
Mourning cayse he leave dem behind,
I cannot work before to-morrow,
Cayse de tear drops flow,
I try to drive away my sorrow
Pickin' on de old banjo.
Chorus—Down in de corn-field, &c.
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