1852年夏季,福斯特偕妻子到肯塔基州的巴特士顿去看望他的堂兄弟,费特里奥山丘美丽的风光,以及肯塔基农村的景物打动了他的心,激发了福斯特的创作热情,促使他写下了这首脍炙人口、抒情优美、朴实真挚的歌曲,《我的老肯塔基故乡》(My Old Kentucky Home),并流传至今。福斯特以优美的旋律和歌词赞美了肯塔基自然风光的美丽和人们向往的幸福生活。“阳光明媚照耀肯塔基故乡,夏天,黑人欢畅,玉米熟了,草原到处花儿香,小鸟终日枝头唱……”
Words and Music by: Stephen C. Foster Sung by 侯牧人 郑乃欣 李延宝 乔晓彬
The sun shines bright in the old Kentucky home 'Tis summer, the people are gay; The corn top's ripe and the meadow's in the bloom, While the birds make music all the day; The young folks roll on the little cabin floor, All merry, all happy, and bright, By'n by hard times comes a-knocking at the door, Then my old Kentucky home, good night!
Chorus
Weep no more, my lady, Oh weep no more today! We will sing one song for the old Kentucky home, For the old Kentucky home far away.
They hunt no more for the 'possum and the coon, On meadow, the hill and the shore, They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon, On the bench by that old cabin door; The day goes by like a shadow o'er the heart, With sorrow where all was delight; The time has come when the people have to part, Then my old Kentucky home, good night!
Chorus
The head must bow and the back will have to bend, Wherever the people may go; A few more days and the trouble all will end In the field where sugar-canes may grow; A few more days for to tote the weary load, No matter, 'twill never be light, A few more days till we totter on the road, Then my old Kentucky home, good night!
Words and Music by: Stephen C. Foster Sung by 侯牧人 郑乃欣 李延宝 乔晓彬
Old Folks at Home (Swanee River) Way down upon the Swanee River, far,far,far away. There's where my heart is turning ever, there's where the old folks stay. All up and down the whole creation, sadly I roam. Still longing for the old plantation, and for the old folks at home. All round the little farm I wandered, when I was young; Then many happy days I squandered, many the songs I sang. When I was playing with my brother, happy was I. Oh!Take me to my kind old mother, there let me live and die. One little hut among the bushes, one that I love. Still sadly to my memry rushes, no matter where I roam. When will I see the bees ahumming, all round the comb? When will I hear the banjo turning down in my good old home.
All the world is sad and dreary. Everywhere I roam; Oh! How my heart grows weary, far from the old folks at home.