I came in 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 a fine hand I'd write my love a letter, one she'd long understand I send it by the water where the islands over flow And I'd think of pretty saro wherever I go At the foot of yon mountain there lies a deep snow Oh it's not this long journey, leaving friends that I know There's one thing that grieves me and bears on my mind Its leaving my darlin' pretty saro behind