The Slave’s Lament

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It was in sweet Senegal that my foes did me enthrall
  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 &c.

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 &c.

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 &c.

© Robert Burns