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The Slaves' Lament
It was in sweet Senegal that my foes did me enthrall
For the lands of Virginia-ginia-O
Torn from that lovely shore, and must never see it more
And alas, I am weary, weary O
Torn from that lovely shore, and must never see it more
And alas, I am weary, weary O
All on that charming coast is no bitter snow or frost
Like the lands of Virginia-ginia-O
There streams for ever flow, and there flowers for ever blow
And alas, I am weary, weary O
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There streams for ever flow, and there flowers for ever blow
And alas, I am weary, weary O
The burden I must bear, while the cruel scourge I fear
In the lands of Virginia-ginia-O
And I think on friends most dear, with a bitter, bitter tear
And alas I am weary, weary O
And I think on friends most dear, with a bitter, bitter tear
And alas I am weary, weary O
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