The Slave's Lament
Martin Carthy| Original | In 1786 Robert Burns, national poet of Scotland, booked a ticket... |
| 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, I 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: Their streams for ever flow, and their 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. | THE SLAVE'S LAMENT It was in sweet Senegal that my foes did me enthrall, For the isle of Jamaica O. Torn from that lovely shore, and must ne’er see no more; Oh alas! I am weary, weary O! Torn from that lovely shore, oh must never see no more; Oh alas! I am weary, weary O! All on that charming coast was no brutal whipping post, Like the isle of Jamaica O. Where streams for ever flow, and flowers ever grow, And alas! I am weary, weary O! There streams for ever flow, and children ever grow, Oh alas! I am weary, weary O! The burden I must bear, while the cruel scourge I fear, On the isle of Jamaica O. And I think of family dear, with a sorry, bitter tear, Oh alas! I am weary, weary O! And I think of family gone, with a sorry bitter scorn Oh alas! I am weary, O-o-o! It was in sweet Senegal that my foes did me entrap For the isle of Jamaica O. Torn from that lovely shore, Mama Africa, Oh alas! I am weary, weary O! Torn from that lovely coast, Mama Africa, O ah ya, ya ya ya.. We were carried beyond, our own home Seh we were taken beyond, Mama Africa’s shores, We were carried beyond, our own shore We were carried beyond, Mama Africa’s shores, |
