Saro (Traditional)

I came to this country

18 and 49

I thought myself lucky

For to be alive

I looked all around me

No one could I see

That I could compare with

My pretty saree

I wish I was a poet

Could write in find hand

Would write my love a letter

One she'd long understand

I'd send it by the water

Where the islands overflow

And I'd think of pretty Saro wherever I go

'Tis not this long journey that grieves me for to go

Nor the country that I'm leaving

Nor the debts that I owe

There's one thing that grieves me and bears on my mind

That's leaving my darling pretty Saro behind