Courtin down in Tennessee, &c.

Dey gib her up, no power could save, U li a li o la e,

She ax me follow to her grave, U li a li o la e.

I take her hand, ’twas cold as death,

So cold I hardly draw my breff,

She saw my tear in sorrow flow,

And said, Farewell, my dearest, Joe, U li a li o la e.

Rosa sleeps in Tennessee, &c.

The Fine Old English Gentleman.