Extending the vocal range with challenging tonic arpeggios
and octave skips.
Description
- Grade: Fourth
- Origin: USA – Georgia, Confederate Civil War Song
- Key: C Major
- Time: 2/4
- Form: rhythm: AAABCB – pitches: ABaCDC
song: AB (verse/refrain) - Rhythm: beginners: | ti/ ri ti ti | syncopation,
| ta ta | ta/a | ti ti ti ti | - Pitches: intermediate: Re Mi Fa So Si La Ti Do Re Mi
– raised dominant, extended range - Intervals: advanced: So/Do, Do\La, La\Si/La, Do\So\Mi descending tonic arpeggio, Do/Mi8, La/Do, Ti/Re8, Do\So/Do, Do\Mi, Mi/So, Fa/La, La\Re, Mi/Miascending octave skip
- Musical Elements: notes: half, quarter, dotted eighth, eighth, sixteenth; verse/refrain, syncopation, raised dominant (Si)
- Key Words: US history, US Civil War, Confederate States, Georgia, Yankees, Rebels, soldiers, mule, custom, enchanting, goober peas (peanuts), General, battle, row [rou] (a loud noise or uproar), rifles, Georgia Militia, interesting, rhymes, mighty, rags, fleas, kiss, wives, sweethearts, rations, scanty, wearing; abbreviations: d’ya (do you), subject’s (subject is); possessive: summer’s; colloquial: enchanting-er (more enchanting) , grinders (teeth)
1. | Sitting by the roadside, on a summer’s day, Chatting with my messmates, passing time away; Lying in the shadow underneath the trees, Goodness how delicious, eating goober peas. |
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Refrain: | |||||
Peas, peas, peas, peas, eating goober peas. Goodness how delicious, eating goober peas. |
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2.
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When a horse-man passes, the soldiers have a rule |
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Refrain | |||||
3. | Just before the battle, the General hears a row He says “The Yanks are coming, I hear their rifles now. He turns around in wonder, and what d’ya think he sees? The Georgia Militia, eating goober peas. |
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Refrain | |||||
4. | I think my song has lasted almost long enough. The subject’s interesting, but the rhymes are mighty tough. I wish the war was over, so free from rags and fleas We’d kiss our wives and sweethearts, and gobble goober peas. |
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Refrain | |||||
5. | But now we are in prison and likely long to stay, The Yankees they are guarding us, no hope to get away; Our rations they are scanty, ’tis cold enough to freeze,— I wish I was in Georgia, eating goober peas. |
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Refrain | |||||
Additional Formats (click to enlarge)