I can’t forget her gloomy look, when I bid her good-night,
Nor how my body quaked and shook as slow I left her sight;
But soon I’ll gold and silver get, pray Heaven I’m not too late,
To buy my darling Juney free and take her from the gate.
The Cabin stands upon the stream, &c.
Oh, Juney was a simple child, with pretty shining curls,
And white folks loved her best of all, the young Mulatto girl,
’Twas wrong for me to leave her ’lone, in Mississippi State,
But money it shall break the chain that binds her to the gate.
The Cabin stands upon the stream, &c.
If you go away down South, to Mississippi State,
Don’t fail to seek our Cabin there, with Juney at the gate;
Tell her to wait a little while, tell her in hope to wait,
For I am he shall make her free, and take her from the gate.
The Cabin stands upon the stream, &c.
The Little Blacksmith.
We heard his hammer all day long
On the anvil ring, and ring,
But he always came when the sun went down,
To sit on the gate and sing;
His little hands so hard and brown
Cross’d idly on his knee,
And straw-hat lopping over cheeks
As red as they could be.
Chorus.—The hammer’s stroke on the anvil, fill’d
His heart with a happy ring,
And that was why, when the sun went down,
He came to the gate to sing.
His blue and faded jacket, trimm’d
With signs of work, his feet
All bare and fair upon the grass,
He made a picture sweet.
For still his shoes, with iron shod,
On the smithy wall he hung,
As forth he came, when the sun went down,
And sat on the gate and sung.
Chorus.—The hammer’s stroke on the anvil, fill’d, &c.