When I first come to this country in Eighteen and Forty-nine
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I saw many fair lovers but I never saw mine
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I viewed it all around me, saw I was quite alone
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and me a poor stranger and a long way from home
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Well, my true love she won't have me and it's this I understand
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For she wants some free holder and I have no land
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I couldn't maintain her on silver and gold
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but all of the other fine things that my love's house could hold
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Fare thee well to ol' mother, fare thee well to my father too
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I'm going for to ramble this wide world all through
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And when I get weary, I'll sit down and cry
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and think of my Saro, pretty Saro, my bride
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Well I wished I was a poet that could write some fine hand
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I would write my lovin' letter that she might understand
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I'd send it on the water where the islands overflow
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and think of my darlin' wherever I go
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Well, I wished I was a turtle dove
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Had wings and could fly
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Far away to my lover's lodgings
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Tonight I'd draw nigh
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And there in her lilywhite arms I'd lay there all night
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and watch through them little wind'ers
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for the dawning of day
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Pretty Saro
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| Iris Dement |
