I came to this country 18 and 49 I thought myself lucky For to be alive I looked all around me No one could I see That I could compare with My pretty saree
I wish I was a poet Could write in find hand Would write my love a letter One she'd long understand I'd send it by the water Where the islands overflow And I'd think of pretty Saro wherever I go
'Tis not this long journey that grieves me for to go Nor the country that I'm leaving Nor the debts that I owe There's one thing that grieves me and bears on my mind That's leaving my darling pretty Saro behind
