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