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: