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.