Collected by 0. C. Pollard
Mary Celestia Parler; Elkins, Ark.
Transcribed by November 26, 1955
Neil Byer
Reel 218, Item 3
Fifty Years Ago (with guitar)
I wandered to the village, Tom,
And sat beneath the tree,
Upon the school house playing ground
That sheltered you and me.
But none are left to greet me, Tom,
And few are left to know,
That played with us upon the green
Some fifty years ago.
Chorus: The scenes have changed around the place,
And few are left to know,
Who played with us upon the green
Some fifty years ago.
The old school house is altered some,
(rest of stanza unintelligible)
The great vine swing is ruined now,
(line unintelligible)
And sung our sweetheart pretty girls
Some fifty years ago.
(Chorus)
There is a game we used to play
As we set beneath the trees,
The name I've just forgot now, Tom,
Who played this same with me.
'Twas played by throwing a pen-knife so-and-so,
We tossed them to and fro,
The loser had a test to do
Just fifty years ago.
(Chorus)
Reel 213, Item 3, con't.
The spring that bubbled 'neath the hill
By the spreading beech,
'Twas very high ??????
That we could scarcely reach.
But kneeling down to get a drink,
Oh, Tom, I started so
To see how sadly I have changed
From fifty years ago.
Down by the ??? upon the hill,
You know, I cut your name,
Oh, sweetheart, just beneath this heart (?)
That you did ?????? say.
Oh, heartless wretch, that peeled the bark
Most high (?) and sure, but slow,
Just as the one who claimed your heart
Some fifty years ago.
I have a picture here now, Tom,
The children were all there,
The teacher standing in the group
With face so bright and fair.
The village is much larger now,
The streets are paved, you know,
We walked upon the muddy ground
Some fifty years ago.
(Chorus)
The rivers run just as then,
The willows on their side,
They're larger than they were then, Tom,
The stream appears less wide.
The birds are singing just the same,
A song as soft and low,
They sang to us their melody
Some fifty years ago.
(Chorus)
Reel 213, Item 3, con't., 2
Some are in the churchyard laid,
Some sleep beneath the sea,
But few are left to follow them,
Excepting you and me.
(line unintelligible)
And we are called to go,
I hope they lay us where we played
Some fifty years ago.
(Chorus)
(MCP asks Mr. Pollard where he learned the song.)
OCP: Well, when I was just about in the fourth grade—
going to school, about twelve years old— this
piece was in the old McGuffey Reader. And I had
forgot it and lost the reader and everything, and
I had a aunt that had been a schoolteacher, so
years after...I wrote to her and had her write this
off and send it to me and she did. And that's how
I got the song.
MCP: You learned it as a song when you were a child?
OCP: ...no, just as a poem.
MCP: Well, how did you get the music to it?
OCP: I made the music to it...myself.
