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I am a poor wayfaring stranger While traveling through this world of woe Yet there's no sickness, toil or danger in that bright world to which I go. I'm going there to see my father I'm going there no more to roam I'm only going over Jordan I'm only going over home. I know dark clouds will gather round me, I know the way is rough and steep But beauteous fields lie just before me Where the redeemed their vigils keep. I'm going there to see my mother She said she'd meet me when I come I'm only goin' over Jordan I'm only goin' over home.
Hello stranger how do you do there’s something I’d like to say to you You seem surprised I recognize I’m no detective but I just surmise You’re from the place I’m longing to be Your smiling face seems to say to me You’re from my homeland my sunny homeland tell me can it be? (chorus) Are you from Dixie I say from Dixie Where the fields of cotton beckon to me I’m glad to see you Tell me how be you and the friends I’m longing to see? Are you from Alabama, Tennessee, or Caroline Any place below the Mason-Dixon Line Are you from Dixie I say from Dixie ’Cause I’m from Dixie too. It was a way back in old ’89 When first I crossed that Mason-Dixon Line Gee but I yearn, long to return To all those good old folks I left behind. My home was way down in old Alabam’ On a plantation near Birmingham and there’s one thing certain: I’m surely flirtin’ With those southbound trains
When you walk along the street How often times you'll meet Some poor old man whose life is fraught with woe. His back with age is bent In his pocket not a cent And for shelter he has nowhere to go His relations by the score They'll turn him from the door If they'll meet him on the street, they'll pass him by If you ask them why they do They'll answer you and say, "He is poor, he's old, and only in the way" Now let us cheer them on They won't be with us long Don't quarrel with them because they're old and grey For remember while you're young Old age to you will come You'll be old and grey and only in the way There was a time, I hear When youth was not so queer But since that time there's been an awful change. Young men of strength and might Their parents they would strike If it happens every day, it's nothing strange. Take this poor wreck of toil: His children he did spoil For death ofttimes I'm sure he did pray Himself and faithful wife, after toiling all their lives To find they're old and only in the way.
"Well met, well met, said an old true love. Well met, well met, said he. I have just returned from the salt, salt sea. And it's all for the love of thee." "Come in, come in, my own true love, And have a seat with me. It's been three-fourths of a long, long year, Since together we have been. " "I can't come in nor I can't sit down, For I haven't but a moment's time. They say you're married to a house carpenter, And your heart will never be mine." "Now it's I could have married a King's daughter, dear, And I'm sure she'd have married me, But I've forsaken her crowns of gold, And it's all for the love of thee." "Now will you forsake your house carpenter, And go along with me? I'll take you where the grass grows green. By the banks of the deep blue sea." So she picked up her own little babe, And kisses, she gave it three. Saying "Stay right here, my darling little babe, And keep your papa company." They hadn't been on ship but about two weeks, I'm sure it was not three, Till his own true love began to mourn, And she wept most bitterly. "Now it's are you weeping for your silver and your gold, Or are you weeping for your store? Or are you weeping for your house carpenter, Whose face you'll never see any more?" "No, I'm not weeping for my silver and gold, Nor am I weeping for my store, I am weeping for my darling little babe, Whose face I'll never see any more." They hadn't been on ship but about three weeks, I'm sure it was not four, When they sprang a leak in the bottom of the ship, And it sank for to rise no more.
I wandered today to the hill, Maggie, To watch the scene below; The creek and the creaking old mill, Maggie, As we used to long ago. The green grove is gone from the hill, Maggie, Where first the daisies sprung; The creaking old mill is still, Maggie, Since you and I were young. A city so silent and lone, Maggie, Where the young and the gay and the best, In polished white mansions of stone, Maggie, Have each found a place of rest, Is built where the birds used to play, Maggie, And join in the songs that were sung; For we sang as lovely as they, Maggie, When you and I were young. They say I am feeble with age, Maggie, My steps are less spritely than then My face is a well written page, Maggie, But time alone was the pen. They say we are aged and gray, Maggie, As sprays by the white breakers flung, But to me you're as fair as you were, Maggie, When you and I were young.
Katy dear 03:22
Oh Katie dear go ask your mamma If you can be a bride of mine If she says yes come back and tell me If she says no we’ll run away. Oh Willie dear there’s no use in asking She’s in her room taking a rest And by her side is a silver dagger To slay the one that I love best. Oh Katie dear go ask your papa If you can be a bride of mine If he says yes come back and tell me If he says no we’ll run away. Oh Willie dear, there’s no use in asking He’s in his room taking a rest And by his side is a silver dagger To slay the one that I love best. So he picked up that silver dagger And plunged it through his troubled heart Saying goodbye Katie, goodbye darlin’ It's now forever we must part. Then she picked up that bloody dagger And plunged it through her lily-white breast Saying goodbye mamma, goodbye papa; I’ll die with the one that I love best.
Blue railroad train Going down the railroad tracks It makes me feel so doggone blue To listen to that old smokestack. Come back again Let me hear the whistle blow You’re taking the sun and leaving the rain And I hate to see you go. Blue railroad train Leaving me far behind Gimme back the good old days And let me ramble down the line Blue railroad train Leaving me here alone You treat me good you treat me bad You’re making me think of home. I’ve got the blues I’m longing for your company It’s many miles from where I am To the only one for me. It’s lonely here Waiting for the manifest I hope that engineer is kind Enough to let me be his guest. I’m not as bad As you might think I am I hobo here I hobo there I’ve traveled these states around. Blue railroad train A good old pal to me You take me where I want to go And the transportation’s free.
Pretty Saro 04:17
When I first came to this country in 1849 I saw many fair lovers but I never saw mine I viewed all around me, I was quite alone And me a poor stranger and a long way from home. Oh my true love she won’t have me and this I understand She wants a freeholder and I've got no land But I could maintain her on silver and gold And as many of the fine things that my love’s house could hold. Oh, I wish I was a poet, could write some fine hand. I would write my love a letter that she might understand. I'd send it by the waters where the islands overflow. And I'd think of my darling wherever she'd go. Fair thee well to old father. Fare thee well to mother too. I’m going for to ramble this wide world all through. And when I get weary I’ll sit and shed a tear And think of pretty Saro my darling my dear. Oh I wish I was a turtle dove, had wings and could fly Into my love’s bosom this night I’d draw nigh And in her lily-white arms all night I would lay And think of pretty Saro till the dawning of day.
Step-stone 03:16
Let us pause in life's pleasures and count its many tears, While we all sup sorrow with the poor; There's a song that will linger forever in our ears; Oh! Hard times come again no more. Chorus: 'Tis the song, the sigh of the weary, Hard Times, hard times, come again no more. Many days you have lingered around my cabin door; Oh! Hard times come again no more. While we seek mirth and beauty and music light and gay, There are frail forms fainting at the door; Though their voices are silent, their pleading looks will say Oh! Hard times come again no more. Chorus There's a pale drooping maiden who toils her life away, With a worn heart whose better days are o'er: Though her voice would be merry, 'tis sighing all the day, Oh! Hard times come again no more. Chorus 'Tis a sigh that is wafted across the troubled wave, 'Tis a wail that is heard upon the shore 'Tis a dirge that is murmured around the lowly grave Oh! Hard times come again no more. Chorus
Soft as the voice of an angel, Breathing a lesson unheard, Hope with a gentle persuasion Whispers her comforting word: Wait till the darkness is over, Wait till the tempest is done, Hope for the sunshine tomorrow, After the shower is gone. Whispering hope, oh, how welcome thy voice, Making my heart in its sorrow rejoice. If, in the dusk of the twilight, Dim be the region afar, Will not the deepening darkness Brighten the glimmering star? Then when the night is upon us, Why should the heart sink away? When the dark midnight is over, Watch for the breaking of day. Whispering hope, oh, how welcome thy voice, Making my heart in its sorrow rejoice.


A meeting of minds of two musicians from very different musical backgrounds, but with one common characteristic: A deep appreciation for real music that touches real people.

Donna has been singing for as long as she can remember, and her knack for hearing the musical worth of a particular song led her to learn and assimilate folk ballads and sentimental parlor songs to the point at which she now "owns" them stylistically and interpretively.

Known today primarily as a lutenist, Ron usually keeps a lid on his musical past when rubbing leather-patched tweed elbows with paper-trained musicians. But his first instrument was the banjo, and as a founding member of the Portland Folklore Society he played an important role in establishing the now-thriving folk music and square dance scene in Portland, Oregon.

Music on our new album draws from the well of parlor songs and ballads that were sung at home around the turn of the 20th century. Some of the ballads are much older and at least one song dates from the last time we had a Great Depression. The term Heart-Songs is inspired by a collection of songs by that title published in 1909, representing the most popular songs of the day. The editor described the collection as "Songs that have entertained thousands from childhood to the grave and have voiced the pleasure and pain, the love and longing, the despair and delight, the sorrow and resignation, and the consolation of the plain people..."


released November 4, 2020

Donna Stewart, voice
Ron Andrico, voice, guitar, banjo, mandolin


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Eulalie Cleveland Heights, Ohio

Eulalie (pronounce it "YOU-la-lee")
True blue. Guaranteed 100% irony-free.

Hauntingly stark, sweetly sentimental, or just plain fun,
these old songs tell the stories of people's lives.
Ron & Donna treat these treasures with the love and respect of honest, straightforward arrangements inspired by the old masters of parlor, dance hall, and backwoods.
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