You kin talk about yer anthems
An' yer arias an' sich,
An' yer modern choir singin'
That you think so awful rich;
But you orter heerd us youngsters
In the times now far away.
A-singin' o' the ol' tunes
In the ol'-fashioned way.

There was some o' us sung treble
An' a few o' us growled bass,
An' the side o' song flowed smoothly
With its complement o' grace;
There was spirit in that music.
An' a kind o' solemn sway.
A singin' o' the ol' tunes
In the ol'-fashioned way.

I remember oft o' standin'
In my homespun pantaloons--
On my face the bronze an' freckles
O' the suns o' youthful Junes--
Thinkin' that no mortal minstrel
Ever chanted sich a lay
As the ol' tunes we was singin'
In the ol'-fashioned way.

The boys 'ud always lead us,
An' the girls 'ud all chime in,
Till the sweetness o' the singin'
Robbed the listnin' soul o' sin;
An' I ust to tell the parson
'Twas as good to sing as pray,
When the people sung the ol' tunes
In the ol'-fashioned way.

How I long agin to hear it,
Pourin' forth from soul to soul,
With the treble high an' meller,
An' the bass's mighty roll;
But the times is very diff'rent,
An' the music heerd to-day
Ain't the singin' o' the ol' tunes
In the ol'-fashioned way.

Little screechin' by a woman,
Little squawkin' by a man,
Then the organ's twiddle-twaddle,
Just the empty space to span,--
An' ef you should ever think it,
'Tisn't proper fur to say
That you want to hear the ol' tunes
In the ol'-fashioned way.

But I think that some bright mornin,
When the toils of life air o'er,
An' the sun o'heaven arisin'
Glads with light the happy shore;
I shall hear the angel chorus,
In the realms o' endless day,
A singin' o' the ol' tunes
In the ol'-fashioned way

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