Do, re, me...

I got to reminiscing this morning, about music.  Especially about the music of my grade school years.  It all started when the song “Comin’ Round the Mountain” came to mind.  I had thought it had been written by Stephen Foster.  Of course, I could not rest until I found out for sure he indeed had.  Turns out he had not.  Seems, “Comin’ Round the Mountain” started out as a spiritual, and has changed much over the years from that spiritual, to the ditty we know today about somebody who’s arrival is being anxiously awaited, and with that arrival everybody is going to sit down to ‘chicken and dumplings’ or ‘cake and ice cream’ depending on how you have learned the song.

Anyway, back to Stephen Foster.  I fondly remember music class and singing his songs.  I think we had music once a week, the teacher had a pitch pipe into which she would blow “C”, until we were all pretty much on key, and we would launch into song.  I thought his songs were beautiful.  I remember some of the words to this day. 

Do you?

“I dream of Jeannie with the light brown hair,

Borne, like a vapor, on the summer air

I see her tripping where the bright streams play

Happy as the daisies that dance on her way”

 

or....

“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;”

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.”

Or, how about:

 

Oh, Susannah

“I come from Alabama
With a banjo on my knee
I'm going to Louisiana,
My true love for to see.

It rained all night the day I left
The weather it was dry
The sun so hot, I froze to death
Susannah, don't you cry.”

Man, nobody writes songs like those any more.  Of course, by now I’m delving into the man himself.  And I learned he was Born in Pennsylvania and was one of 10 children, for a while the family lived in Pittsburgh, and were considered a ‘middle class’ family, until his father became an alcoholic and left them impoverished. 

Stephen took to song writing when he was 18, but since there were no royalties at the time, and Copyright law was at that time in its infancy he made little money from his songs.  For a while he worked with his brother in Ohio who had a steamship company.

Eventually Stephen moved back to Pittsburgh, then to New York City, where his wife and daughter left him.  With the beginning of the Civil War, the demand for songs diminished, and the quality of his work suffered.  He died shortly thereafter (1864), with 38 cents to his name.  He was only 37 years old.  At his death a scrap of paper was found in his wallet that simply read, "Dear friends and gentle hearts."

One of his songs was published posthumously and I shall post it here for your enjoyment.

Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;
Sounds of the rude world heard in the day,
Lull'd by the moonlight have all pass'd away!

Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song,
List while I woo thee with soft melody;
Gone are the cares of life's busy throng.

Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!

Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea,
Mermaids are chaunting the wild lorelie;
Over the streamlet vapors are borne,
Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn.

Beautiful dreamer, beam on my heart,
E'en as the morn on the streamlet and sea;
Then will all clouds of sorrow depart,

Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!

 

Have a beautiful day.  Oh, and thanks for the memories and the songs, Stephen.