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: