Lyrics to 1930s songs pt 2

This page features a sexy photo of contralto singer and 1930s San Francisco radio personality Nola Day, a native of Iceland.

According to The Magic Key of RCA Radio Program: “NOLA DAY, NBC contralto, who has appeared as a Magic Key guest, is a native of Iceland but was brought to the United States when she was a baby. She grew up in Tacoma. When she was still in her teens she joined a touring organization that gave entertainments in the logging camps in the Northwest. At the end of a two-years’ tour Nola went to Portland, Oregon, and after a year’s vocal training she was selected as a soloist with the Portland Symphony Orchestra. Later she went to Seattle where she sang in “The Vagabond King,” and later proved her vocal versatility by singing with a dance orchestra. When KOMO, Seattle, put on its first transcontinental over NBC, Nola took part. This was her radio debut. She later became a member of the NSC staff in San Francisco. At present she is with NBC in New York.”

Enjoy the song lyrics on this page below. I’ve tried to find audio/video to go with each song, but without much success.

LA ‘CUCARACHA

When a fellow loves a maiden
And that maiden doesn’t love him,
It’s the same as when a bald man
Finds a comb upon the highway.
All the maidens are of pure gold;
All the married girls are silver;
All the widows are of copper.
And old women merely tin.

(Chorus)

The cucaracha, the cucaracha,
Doesn’t want to travel on

Because she hasn’t, oh no, she hasn’t’
Marijuana for to smoke

There’s a lady ’cross the highway
Folks all call her Donna Clara,
And if that’s her. name on this day,»
Likely that’s her name tomorrow.
All the girls make love so neatly
They remind you of a flower,

For they talk so very sweetly

That they hold you in their pow’r.

I wasn’t able to find a video with audio that matched these lyrics to La Cucaracha 🙁

I’SE GWINE BACK TO DIXIE

I’se gwine back to Dixie,

No more I’se gwine to wander;
My heart’s turned back to Dixie,
I can’t stay here no longer.

I miss de ole plantation,

My home and my relation;

My heart’s turned back to Dixie,
And I must go.

Chorus

I’se gwine back to Dixie,

I’se gwine where the orange blossoms
grow;

For I hear the children calling

I see their tears a falling,

My’heart’s turn’d back to Dixie

And I must go.

I’ve hoed in fields of cotton,

I’ve work’d upon the river,

I used to think if I got off,

I’d go back there, no, never,

But time has changed the old man,
His head is bending low,

His heart’s turned back to Dixie,
And he must go.

I’m trav’ling back to Dixie,

My step is slow and feeble,

I pray the Lord to help me,

And lead me from all evil.

And should my strength forsake me,
Then, kind friends, come and take me;

My heart’s turned back to Dixie,
And I must go.

Here is the 1917 version of I’se Gwine Back to Dixie.

Ironic that I could find an audio recording of this song, but I’m unable to find the version of La Cucaracha with the lyrics above.

https://youtu.be/xx0eNcwiLlc

ONE. TWO, THREE, FOUR

One, two. three, four!

Sometimes I wish there were more.
Eins, swei, drei, vier!

I love the one that‘s near.

Eeeny. meeny, meiny, mo!

So says the heathen Chinee.

80, girls, beware, and boys, take care!
One. two and three.

CIRIBIRIBIN

I am waiting here for you love,
As the evening breezes blow,
Watching the shadows of the river,
As they flit both to and fro,
I have come to see the love light
dancing in your eyes of blue,
And to hear you softly whisper that
to me you’ll e’er be true,
Ciribiribin, Ciribiribin, Ciribiribin,
Ciribiribin, the moon looks down upon
our happiness serene,
Ciribiribin, the stars bow down before
thee,
O my radiant queen,
Ciribiribin, more love than mine for
thee the world has never seen.
Ciribiribin, Ciribiribin, Ciribiribin, my
radiant queen.

1930s song lyrics

THE LOST CHORD

Seated one day at the organ,
I was weary and ill at ease,
And my fingers wandered idly
Over the noisy keys;
I know not what 1 was playing,
Or what 1 was dreaming then,
But I struck one chord of music
Like the sound of a great Anien,
Like the sound of a great Amen.
It flooded the crimson twilight
Like the close of an Angel’s Psalm,
And it lay on my fevered spirit
With a touch of infinite calm;
It quieted pain and sorrow,
Like love overcoming strife;
It seemed the harmonious echo
From our discordant life;
It linked all perplexed meanings
Into one perfect peace,

I trembled away into silence,
As if it were loath to cease.
l have sought, but I seek it vainly,
That one lost chord divine,
Which came from the soul of the organ
And entered into mine.
It may be that Death’s bright Angel
Will speak in that chord again,
It may be that only in Heav’n
I shall hear that grand Amen;
It may be that Death’s bright Angel
Will speak in that chord again,
It may be that only in Heav’n
I shall hear that grand Amen.