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Witchery Art: A Gothic Cabinet of Curiosities and Mysteries

Witchery Art: A Gothic Cabinet of Curiosities and Mysteries

A collection of gothic horror stories, urban legends, ghosts, haunted houses & other curiosities

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Listen To The Mockingbird

Journal, Love Was The Cause Of My Sorrow: Traditional Folk Songs From The American River Valleys / February 26, 2019 by Todd Atteberry

THIS IS THE ONE SONG with a direct connection to Carmi, Illinois’ bicentennial. Which was the reason we were recording folk songs to begin with.  In the booklet for Carmi’s sesquicentennial, the author, J. Robert Smith referred to the song being sung in Carmi’s parlors, accompanied by the pump organ.

The music was written by a black street musician by the name of Richard Milburn. The lyrics were written by one Alice Hawthorne, which was a nom de plume for a fellow named Septimus Winner.

The song was written in 1855, and the sheet music for it went on to sell twenty million copies. Even Abraham Lincoln loved it. The lyricist however, didn’t love Lincoln, and also wrote a song urging Americans to vote for Gen. George McClellan, Lincoln’s opponent when he ran for re-election to the presidency.

This version kicks off with Fred Lowery’s performance in 1939, complete with bird calls. It’s part of the charm of the song that despite its tragic lyrics, it was given what can only be described as a spritely melody. Sometimes you have to laugh to keep from Crying

Listen to the Mockingbird

Lyrics by Alice Hawthorne, Music by Richard Milburn, United States, 1855

Last night I dreamed of my Halley,
Of my Halley, my sweet Halley,
Last night I dreamed of my Halley,
For the thought of her is one that never dies

She’s sleeping now in the valley,
In the valley, my sweet Halley,
She’s sleeping now in the valley,
And the Mockingbird is singing where she lies

Listen to the Mockingbird, listen to the Mockingbird,
Oh the Mockingbird is singing oe’er her grave,
Listen to the Mockingbird, listen to the Mockingbird,
Still singing where the yellow roses grow

How well do I yet remember,
I remember, I remember,
How well do I yet remember,
For the thought of her is one that never dies

It was in that sweet September,
In September, I remember,
It was in that sweet September,
That the Mockingbird was singing far and wide

Listen to the Mockingbird, listen to the Mockingbird,
Oh the Mocking bird still singing oe’er her grave,
Listen to the Mockingbird, listen to the Mockingbird,
Oh the Mockingbird still singing in the spring

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About the author and artist

The haunted, macabre, the downright peculiar ….the curiously gothic world of Todd Atteberry

 

Gothic horror stories, haunted travelogues, a healthy dose of witchcraft, paganism, stone circles and ancient trackways.

Meet Todd

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