Historic Sheet Music Collection

Authors

John H. Hewitt

Document Type

Score

Publication Date

1844

Comments

The Kentucky Gentleman
A ballad written, composed & respectfully dedicated to Henry Clay, the farmer of Ashland by John H. Hewitt.

New York. Published by John F. Nunns 240 Broadway

Some of the resources may contain offensive language or negative stereotypes. Such materials should be seen in the context of the time period and as a reflection of attitudes of the time. The items are part of the historical record, and do not represent the views of the libraries or the institution.

Lyrics

They've sung of English gentlemen,
Who liv'd in olden times,
When titles loud and coats or arms,
Hid multitudes of crimes.
My theme shall be a gentleman,
The farmer of the West...
A man of intellect and soul,
With a kind heart in his breast.

refrain
The fine Kentucky gentleman,
Whose heart is in his hand
The rare Kentucky gentleman,
The noblest in the land.

2nd verse
The minstrels of long bygone days,
Whene'er they tuned their lyres,
Were sure to sing of war like ddes,
Young heroes and their sires:
I sing in praise of him who stood Erect in Senate hall-
Amid the proudest of the land,
The proudest of them all!

3
He spoke! and forth came words of fire!
His country, right or wrong,
Was just as much his idol made
As love the poet's song!
His giant intellect subdued
The malice of his foes;
And when the strove to drag him down,
The higher still he rose!
The fine Kentucky, &c.

4
The North, the South, the East, the West,
This gentleman beheld;
While beauty cheer'd him with her smiles,
The breast of manhood swell'd.
His honesty and principles
Had nobly stood the test;
And every patriot's bosom glow'd
For the good man of the West!
The fine Kentucky, &c.

5
The frost of age fell on his brow,
And care bent down his form;
But still his mighty voice was raised
Amid the angry storm.
The master spirits quail'd when he
Stood up his country's friend;
For such a monarch oak as he
To tempests would not bend!
The fine Kentucy, &c.

6
And now, retired from noise and strife,
He calmly tills the soil,
And, by his peaceful fireside,
Bids sweet contentment smile;
But there's a murmur in the land,
A glow in every breast-
The People will their highest gift
To the Farmer of the West!
The fine Kentucky, &c.

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