When I first come to this country in eighteen and forty-nine I saw many fair lovers but I never saw mine I view-ed it all around me, saw I was quite alone And me a poor stranger and a long way from home. Well, my true love she won't have me and it's this I understand For she wants some free holder and I have no land I couldn't maintain her on silver and gold But all of the other fine things that my love's house could hold. Fair thee well to ol' Mother, fair thee well to my Father, too I'm going for to ramble this wide world all through And when I get weary, I'll sit down and cry And think of my Saro, pretty Saro, my bride. Well, I wished I was a turtledove, had wings and could fly Far away to my lover's lodgings, tonight I'd draw nigh And there in her lily-white arms I'd lay there all night And watch through them little winders for the dawning of day.