Pretty Saro

When I first come to this country in eighteen and forty-nine

I saw many fair lovers but I never saw mine

I view-ed it all around me, saw I was quite alone

And me a poor stranger and a long way from home.

Well, my true love she won't have me and it's this I understand

For she wants some free holder and I have no land

I couldn't maintain her on silver and gold

But all of the other fine things that my love's house could hold.

Fair thee well to ol' Mother, fair thee well to my Father, too

I'm going for to ramble this wide world all through

And when I get weary, I'll sit down and cry

And think of my Saro, pretty Saro, my bride.

Well, I wished I was a turtledove, had wings and could fly

Far away to my lover's lodgings, tonight I'd draw nigh

And there in her lily-white arms I'd lay there all night

And watch through them little winders for the dawning of day.