Explore "The Slave's Lament" by Robert Burns on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It was in sweet Senegal that my foes did me enthral, / For the lands of Virginia,-ginia, O: / Torn from that lovely shore, and must never see it more; / And alas! I am weary, weary O: / Torn from that lovely shore, and 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: / There streams for ever flow, and there flowers for ever blow, / And alas! I am weary, weary O: / There streams for ever flow, and there 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: / And I think on friends most dear, with the bitter, bitter tear, / And alas! I am weary, weary O: