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As I went out walking for pleasure one day,
In sweet recreation to while time away;
As I sat amusing myself on the grass,
Oh, who should I spy but a fair Indian lass.

She sat down beside me and, taking my hand,
Said, "You are a stranger and in a strange land;
But if you will follow you're welcome to come
And dwell in the cottage that I call my home."

The sun was fast sinking far o'er the blue sea
When I wandered alone with my pretty Mohea.
Together we wandered, together did rove,
'Til we came to the cot in the coconut grove.

Then this kind expression she made unto me:
"If you will consent, sir, to stay here with me
And go no more roving upon the salt sea,
I'll teach you the language of the lass of Moheal"

"Oh, no! my dear maiden, that never could be;
For I have a true love in my own country;
And I'll not forsake her, for I know she loves me,
And her heart is as true as the pretty Mohea."

'Twas early one morning, a morning in May,
That to this fair maiden these words I did say:
"I'm going to leave you, so farewell, my dear;
My ship's sails are spreading, and home I must steer."

The last time I saw her she stood on the strand;
And as my boat passed her she waved me her hand,
Saying, "When you have landed with the girl that you love,
Think of little Mohea in the coconut grove."

And then when I landed on my own native shore,
With friends and relations around me once more,
I gazed all about me, no one could I see
That was fit to compare with the pretty Mohea.
song info:
सत्यापित yes
भाषा: हिन्दीअंग्रेज़ी
शैलीCountry, Ethnic/Folk
पद
समयांतराल
चार्ट
कॉपीराइट ©
लेखक
गाने के बोल लाइसेंस द्वाराLyricFind
जोड़ाJune 16th, 2018
आखरी अपडेटMarch 7th, 2022
के बारे मेंThe West has no monopoly on "Little Mohea," an Indian maiden wooed, won, and abandoned by sailors, adventurers, trappers, soldiers, cowboys, and sundry other virile types since the early decades of European men's ventures into the New World. Hundreds of texts could be assembled with untold variation in content and melodic shape. In some texts the ballad ends with the lovers' parting; in others it goes on to tell how the cruel lover himself returns to the Old Country to find his own true love has abandoned him-a deserved if sad retribution. (Melody and Text A: PAC I 14, recorded by Rosalie Sorrels. Text B: PNFQ 371.)

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