The Slaves Lament

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the slave's lament
it was in sweet senegal that my foes did me enthral,
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 and 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:
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 the bitter, bitter tear,
and alas! i am weary, weary o:
and i think on friends most dear, with the bitter, bitter tear,
and alas! i am weary, weary o:

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