The Slaves Lament

    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: