Poems and Songs of Robert Burns

  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: