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Negro Poems, Melodies |
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The stars begin to twinkle
And the stars begin to gleam, And still of Chloe I'm thinking
And still of Chloe I dream; And no flower in the garden
Does ever sweeter grow, More sweeter than the sweetness
Of my little black eyed Chloe.
WHERE THE WOODBINE GROWS
Down in Alabama
Among the dusky Chloes, Down in Alabama
Where the woodbine grows; There lives a pretty maiden
As sweet as any rose, Down in Alabama
Where the woodbine grows.
Her face is like the olive,
Her eyes are like the snows, Dowrn in Alabama
Where the woodbine grows; And I'm going to wed her
And wed her with the rose, Down in Alabama
Where the woodbine grows. |
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