The Slave's Lament / Farewell To A Dark Haire

It was in sweet Senegal that my foes did me enthral,

For the lands of Virginia,-ginia, O.

Torn from that lovely shore, I 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:

Their streams for ever flow, and their 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.