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: