|Codex Studiosorum Bruxellensis|
Stephen Foster, 1847
I come from Alabama With my banjo on my knee, I'm going to Louisiana, My true love for to see, It rained all night the day I left, The weather, it was dry, The sun so hot I froze to death, Susanna, don't you cry
I had a dream the other night, When everything was still, I thought I saw Susanna there, Acoming down the hill, The buckwheat cake was in her mouth, The tear was in her eye Says I: "I'm coming from the South. Susanna don't you cry."
I soon will be in New Orleans And then I'll look all 'round And when I find Susanna, I'll fall upon the ground But if I do not find her, This darkie'll surely die And when I'm dead and buried Susanna, don't you cry
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