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 of us sung treble
    An' a few of us growled bass,
An' the tide o' song flowed smoothly
    With its 'comp'niment 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 list'nin' soul o' sin;
An' I used 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 ag'in to hear 'em
    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,
    Jest the empty space to span, —
An' ef you should even think it,
    'T isn'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 of endless day,
A-singin' o' the ol' tunes
    In the ol'-fashioned way.