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