Poems (Bell)/Old Uncle Bill
OLD UNCLE BILL.
Song.
Song.
Down in the South Stands the cabin lone and still,No more we'll hear the voice Of old Uncle Bill,Hanging on the wall Is his old hoe and spadeLast used by him When the tater-hill he made.
Chorus
Yes, the darkies gathered round.As they heard the welcome sound,And many was the goodOld dance they had,But they won't dance any moreAnd their hearts with grief are sore,And the songs they sing now are sad.
Far away upon the hill They have laid old Uncle BillIn his grave, with trembling hands They placed his bow,And the tears roll down the cheeks. Of the lonely dusky bandAs they pass by the home He used to know.—Cho.
Old Uncle Bill We never can forget,The echo of his songs Ring in the cabin yet;Often at eve, When the sun was sinking low,They'd meet to hear the music Drawn forth from his old bow.—Cho.