When I first come to this country in eighteen and forty-nine   I saw many fair lovers but I never saw mine   I viewed 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   But I couldn't maintain her on silver and gold   But all of the other fine things that my love's house could hold      Fair the well to ol' mother, fair the 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 turtle dove had wings and could fly   Far away to my lover's lodgings tonight I'd drawn the line   And there in her lily white arms I'd lay there all night   And watch through them little winders for the dawning of day