Audio: Pretty Saro - Roger McGuinn
Pretty Saro
(Traditional)
When I first come to this country in seventeen-forty-nine,
I saw many fair lovers, but never saw mine.
I looked all around me, and I found I was alone.
Me a poor stranger, and a long way from home.
Down in some lonesome valley, down in some lonesome place,
Where the wild birds to whistle their notes to increase,
I think of pretty Saro whose waist is so neat
And I know of no better pastime than to be with my sweet.
My love she won't have have me, so I understand
She wants a free-holder, who owns house and land.
I cannot maintain her with silver and gold,
Nor buy all the find things that a big house can hold.
I wish I was a poet and could write a fine hand.
I would send my love a letter that she could understand.
And I'd send it by a messenger where the waters do flow.
And think of pretty Saro wherever I go.
When I first come to this country in seventeen-forty-nine,
I saw many fair lovers, but never saw mine.
I looked all around me, and found I was alone.
Me a poor stranger, and a long way from home.