Back before the days of computers, television, telephones and all these wonders of modern science and technology, the family homes of the common folk were filled with song. Folks taught songs to their children and there was forever a song in the air.

My mother would always sing cheerful little songs to us that we would repeat when out playing or sitting by ourselves somewhere. One of these was:

Sing, Said The Mother
traditional folk song

Over in the meadows in the nest in a tree
Lived an old mother bird and her little birdies three.
Sing, said the mother. We sing said the three.
So they sang and they sang in the nest in the tree.

Over in the meadows in the sand in the sun
Lived an old mother toad and her little toady one.
Hop, said the mother. I hop, said the one.
So he hopped and he hopped in the sand in the sun.

Over in the meadows in a sly little den
Lived an old mother spider and her little spiders ten.
Spin, said the mother. We spin, said the ten.
So they spun and they spun in their sly little den.

When babies were rocked to sleep in their mother's arms, the mother would have a chance to relax at the same time as she softly sang:

Hush Little Baby
traditional folk song

Hush, little baby
Don't say a word.
Mama's going to buy you
a mocking bird.

And if that mockingbird won't sing,
Mama's going to buy you
a diamond ring.

If that diamond ring turns brass,
Papa's going to buy you
a looking glass.

If that looking glass gets broke,
Mama's going to buy you
a billy goat.

If that billy goat won't pull,
Papa's going to buy you
a cart and bull.

If that cart and bull turn over,
Mama's going to buy you
a dog named Rover.

If that dog named Rover won't bark,
Papa's going to buy you
a horse and cart

If that horse and cart fall down,
You'll still be the sweetest babe in town.

And then there was my favorite song that I sang as often as I could:

The Riddle Song
traditional folk song

I gave my love a cherry
That had no stone.
I gave my love a chicken
That had no bone.

I told my love a story
That had no end.
I gave my love a baby
With no crying.

How can there be a cherry
That has no stone?
How can there be a chicken
That has no bone?

How can there be a story
That has no end?
How can there be a baby
With no crying?

A cherry when it's blooming
It has no stone.
A chicken when in the shell
It has no bone.

The story of how I love you
It has no end.
A baby when it's sleeping
Has no crying.

My father, when he got out his banjo, often sang this song:

Oh, Susanna
traditional folk song

I come from Alabama
With my 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.
Susanna, don't you cry

Oh, Susanna,
Oh don't you cry for me.
For I come from Alabama
With my banjo on my knee.

I had a dream the other night
When everything was still.
I thought I saw Susanna
A coming down the hill.

The buckwheat cake Was in her mouth
A tear was In her eye.
Says I, I'm coming from the south.
Susanna, don't you cry

Oh, Susanna,
Oh don't you cry for me,
For I come from Alabama
With my banjo on my knee.

In the hills of the Ozarks, in the Appalachian Mountains, down home in Kentucky, down yonder in the South, on farms and in cabins around America and all over the world, folks have had music in their homes and a song in their heart.
*******
For your reading and singing pleasure to share with your folks:
,