A SONG

In the mountains of Kentucky,

Where the ivy's astral bloom

And the laurel's waxen petals

Shed a rich and rare perfume;

Where the purple rhododendron

And the wild forget-me-not

Bloom in amorous profusion

Round a little mossy grot.

It was there I left Rowena,

She is waiting now for me,

While I linger here impatient,

For my love I long to see.

Oh, but soon I know I'll see her,

And never more we'll part —

In the mountains of Kentucky,

Lives my own, my true sweetheart.

She's a fairy, I'll admit, a little airy;

But her eyes are like the blue Aegean sea:

And her auburn hair, it would drive you to despair,

For Rowena's heart is true to none but me.

In the mountains of Kentucky,

Though the grass may not be blue,

Yet the streams are swift and sparkling,

And Rowena's heart is true:

And I love the lofty mountains,

And the deep and darkling coves,

Where the redbirds gloom and glimmer,

And Rowena lives and loves.

‘ Tis the home, they say, of feudist,

Where the hand of man is red;

But I know a hundred places,

Where blood's as wanton shed:

Yet no spot in all creation

Has a sky of such a hue —

In the mountains of Kentucky

Lives my sweetheart pure and true.

In the Blue-grass of Kentucky

Now Rowena waits for me,

With a brood of little fairies

That my heart so longs to see;

For their eyes are bright and sparkling

As the drops of diamond dew —

In the Blue-grass of Kentucky,

Live my sweethearts pure and true:

Yes, I love the lofty mountains,

And the deep and darkling cove,

Where the redbirds gloom and glimmer,

And the sky is bright above;

But one spot to me is dearer

Than all the world apart,

In the Blue-grass of Kentucky,

Lives my own, my true sweetheart.