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Oh! Susannah-New Version.

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  • Oh! Susannah-New Version.

    Originally written by J. H. Collins

    I have recently arrived from an Alabamian locality.
    With the primitive Ethiopian musical instrument,
    generally known as the banjo, carefully
    placed and gracefully reclining on that
    portion of the pedal extremities, most
    convenient, when the human frame assumes
    a sedentary position.
    I am about to proceed in a southern direction.
    For the purpose of giving the beloved object of my
    veritable affection, a personal inspection.
    The pluvial emanations descended the whole
    of the evening, at the diurnal period of my departure,
    the terrestrial surface was was totally
    deficent of moisture.
    I uttered a valedictory ejaculation and announced
    my intention of departure.
    Susannah, abstain from weeping.

    I therefore request as a particular favor, Susannah, that
    you'll not allow your tears to descend on account
    of my calamities.
    I'm about to proceed in an Alabamian direction, wid de
    primitive Ethiopian instrument, carefully placed, and
    gracefully reclining on that portion of my anatomical
    development, generally known, styled or denominated,
    as the OS FEMORIS, but in plainer language, better
    recognized by the appelation of my knee.

    I had a nocturnal vision on a preceding evening.
    When no re-verberation, produced by concussion was
    audible in the surrounding atmosphere.
    I perceived the personal resemblance of my Susannah,
    descending the adjacent declivity in a circumnambular
    and rotary manner.
    The formation of farinaceous nutriment, was under-going
    the process of mastication in her labial aperture.
    The lacrymal effusion issued from the gland, and overspread
    the cornea, produced by grief, was distinctly visible in her
    optical perception.

    I uttered a valedictory ejaculation, and announced my intention
    of departure in a southern direction.
    Susannah, abstain from weeping.
    I therefore request as a particular favor, Susannah; that you'll not
    allow your tears to descend on account of my calamities.
    I'm about to depart in a Alabamian direction, with the primitive
    Ethiopian musical instrument, denominated the banjo, carefully
    placed and gracefully reclining on that portion of my anatomical
    development, physiologically, phrenologically, scientifically,
    dogmatically, medically termed the OS FEMORIS, but in
    plainer language, known by as the apellation of my knee.

    from Unsworth's Burnt Cork Lyrics, 1859.
    [FONT="Book Antiqua"]Carl Anderton[/FONT]

    [FONT="Franklin Gothic Medium"][SIZE="2"]"A very good idea of the old style of playing may be formed by referring to the [I]Briggs Banjo Instructor."[/I][/SIZE][/FONT]
    [FONT="Palatino Linotype"][B]Albert Baur, Sgt., Co. A, 102nd Regiment, NY Volunteer Infantry.[/B][/FONT]

  • #2
    Re: Oh! Susannah-New Version.

    Good luck singing that on rhythm.
    [I]Sam Horton[/I]
    Musician
    OFJ Staff

    Comment


    • #3
      Re: Oh! Susannah-New Version.

      Carl,

      Once again you have found some really great (but hard to sing and remember) lyrics. Thanks!!! Where do you find these things? You seem to have a wonderful "secret" source.

      Kind regards,
      Chris Ownby

      Comment


      • #4
        Re: Oh! Susannah-New Version.

        I found this on Vicki Betts super newspaper site. This one is easy to sing in tune.

        [LITTLE ROCK] WEEKLY ARKANSAS GAZETTE, October 20, 1860, p. 1, c. 8

        Campaign Song.
        Air.—"Oh Susannah."

        I had a dream the other night,
        When all around was still;
        I dream'd I saw poor Breckinridge
        A sitting on a hill.
        A corn-cob pipe was in his mouth,
        A tear was in his eye;
        Says he, they'll beat us North and South;
        But Yancey do not cry.
        Oh, Fire-eaters do not cry, said he,
        Tho' we are left of hope bereft
        By Bell, of Tennessee.

        Not far away stood Stephen A.,
        I think I see him now,
        With clenched fist and lips compressed,
        And dark and frowning brow.
        With sorrowing phiz poor Breckinridge
        No sooner caught his eye,
        Than hands did place upon his face,
        And loud began to cry,
        Oh, Lord, Stephen, don't be mad with me;
        There was nothing so deceivin'
        As that Bell, of Tennessee.

        Then in the rear there did appear,
        A doleful picture drawn,
        With clothes neglect and hair erect,
        And features woe-begone.
        I'll go again to splitting rails,
        Quoth he with piteous sigh;
        The colored question once more fails,
        So, darkies, let us cry;
        Oh, dear niggers, come and cry with me;
        Our hopes are o'er for evermore,
        With Bell, of Tennessee.

        Then by his side I there espied,
        Old Buck, with phiz demure;
        Friend Abe, he said, I'm much afraid,
        Our cause is hopeless sure.
        To Breckinridge tho' I was pledged,
        All powers I did apply,
        Tho' indirect, you to elect,
        So Lincoln do not cry.
        Oh, fanatics, do not cry, said he;
        We all have feel by Old John Bell,
        That hails from Tennessee.
        Paul Herring

        Liberty Hall Fifes and Drums
        Stonewall Brigade

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