Mah Old Kentucky Home
When the autumn leaves are droppin',
An' the fros' fall every mawn;
When the punkins am a-ripenin'
'Mid the scattered shocks of cawn,
Then mah tho's they go a-stealin',
No mattah twha ah roam,
To the hills of old Kentucky,
An' mah old Kentucky home.
When the days grow melancholy,
An' the spirit's ebb is low;
When the burdens of this living,
Seem heavier to grow,
Then mah mind turns back in fancy
To the fields ah used to roam -
Turns back to old Kentucky,
An' mah old Kentucky home,
When this weary strife is ended,
An' life's struggles almost past;
When this weary body's ready
To lay down its load at last,
May ah once more turn mah footsteps
To paths ah used to roam,
And lay me down to slumber
In mah old Kentucky home.
An' the fros' fall every mawn;
When the punkins am a-ripenin'
'Mid the scattered shocks of cawn,
Then mah tho's they go a-stealin',
No mattah twha ah roam,
To the hills of old Kentucky,
An' mah old Kentucky home.
When the days grow melancholy,
An' the spirit's ebb is low;
When the burdens of this living,
Seem heavier to grow,
Then mah mind turns back in fancy
To the fields ah used to roam -
Turns back to old Kentucky,
An' mah old Kentucky home,
When this weary strife is ended,
An' life's struggles almost past;
When this weary body's ready
To lay down its load at last,
May ah once more turn mah footsteps
To paths ah used to roam,
And lay me down to slumber
In mah old Kentucky home.
- Anonymous
From All that's Kentucky : An Anthology
edited by Josiah Henry Combs, 1886-1960
posted at 10:59 AM by Jeremy Parnell 
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