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The Lonesome Sisters
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Pretty Saro
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
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