The Slaves Lament（1 / 1）

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: