There's a cozy little cottage Where the morning glories clamber,

voiceCollected by Mary Celestia Parler; Transcribed by Neil Byer Jimmie Morris Timbo Ark. November 5, 1955 Reel 213, Item 8 Zelma Lee ("This little song, 'Zelma Lee,' I used to hear my great-grandmother sing it. Great-grandmother lived by herself when she was old. She wouldn't cook on anything but a fireplace. I used to take her buttermilk, and she used to tell me that she would cook me a big pan of gingerbread if I would go up in the field and dig her some sassafras. And that I did, and sometimes she would sing 'Zelma Lee.' And I learned the song from her, and I suspect she got the song back in North Carolina on the East Coast before they came through Tennessee to Arkansas. She was a Whitfield before she was married but she was a Chambers when I knew her.") There's a cozy little cottage Where the morning glories clamber, And the ivy vines are creeping round the door, Where the fairest flowers are springing And the sweet wild birds are singing, And they echo through the woodland o'er and o'er. And within my little cottage Dwells a maiden pure and true, With hair of sunny golden And lips of rosy hue, And her arms are round me twining ' While the stars are softly shining, And she whispers I would love none else but you. (Chorus) And her voice is sweet and tender As the moonlight on the sea, Her brown eyes softly beaming, They're filled with love for me, And my happy heart is beating While the rosy hours are fleeting, As I sit by my darling Zelma Lee. Reel 213, Item 3, con't Like a winsome little fairy With her step so light and airy, Around the cottage she is flitting all the day, And the music of her singing, Like the wild birds' notes is ringing, As it echoes through the woodland far away. (Chorus) When the nightly dew is fal ling' And the mocking bird is calling, We often stroll together on the shore, Where the silvery waters glisten, And the wave it seems to listen To our vows repeated o'er and o'er. Then my darling often tells me In her sweet and winning tone, With summer I may clamber, With summer as my own, I whisper that I love her, While the moonbeams seem to hover Like a blessing on our pathway falling down. (Chorus)Funding for digitization provided by the Arkansas Humanities Council and the Happy Hollow Foundation