I long, how I long for my home in Kentuck, With its fields where I labor’d, so green, Where the possum and the coon, and the juicy wild duck, And the ’bacco so prime, I have seen: There I’ve fish’d from the banks of the Masella creek, And oft, in the shades of the night, Have I watch’d with my gun, nigh the old Salt Lick, For the game as it come to my sight. _Chorus._--There is my old cabin home, There are my sisters and brother, There is my wife, joy of my life, My child, and the grave of my mother. That hut, my dear home, my log-cabin home, With the bench that I stood at the door, Where weary at night, from my work I would come And there rest, ere I stepp’d on its floor. The calabash vine, that then clung to its walls, Oh! ’tis dear in my memory still to me, And my master, who lives in his own handsome halls, Not so happy as then I could be. _Chorus._--There is my old cabin home, &c. But that cabin is far, far away from me now, I am far from the scenes that I love, Far away from that wife who once heard me vow That forever I faithful would prove-- My friends are still there, and still there is my child, And still there, all in life, I must crave-- Still there is that mound, with its flowers so wild, That covers my old mother’s grave, _Chorus._--There is my old cabin home, &c. Do they miss me at Home. 35 Do they miss me at home, do they miss me! ’Twould be an assurance most dear, To know that this moment some loved one, Were saying I wish he was here, To feel that the group at the fireside Were thinking of me as I roam, Oh, yes, ’twould be joy beyond measure To know that they miss’d me at home, To know that they miss’d me at home. When twilight approaches, the season That ever is sacred to song, Does some one repeat my name over, And sigh that I tarry so long? And is there a chord in the music That’s miss’d when my voice is away, And a chord in each heart that awaketh Regret at my wearisome stay, Regret at my wearisome stay. Do they sit me a chair near the table, When evening’s home pleasures are nigh, When the candles are lit in the parlor, And the stars in the calm azure sky? And when the “good-nights” are repeated, And all lay them down to their sleep, Do they think of the absent, and waft me A whisper’d “good-night” while they weep, A whisper’d “good-night” while they weep?