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    The Slave's Lament

    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:
    ···
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