I came to this country in 1849 I saw many true loves, but never saw mine I viewed all around me and I am alone And me a poor soldier and far from my home It's not the long journey I'm dreading to go Nor leaving the country for the debts that I owe There is nothing that grieves me nor troubles my mind Like leaving pretty Saro, my darling behind I wish I was a poet and could write a fine hand I'd write my love a letter that she can understand I'd send it by the island where them waters overflow And I'd think on pretty Saro, wherever I go Farewell, my dear mother, likewise, father too I'm born for to ramble this country all through But when I get tired, I'll sit down and cry And think on pretty Saro with tears in my eye