When at the feet of Dina this bewitching Sam did kneel.
Your voice was like the night owl, sitting on the tree,
The echoes of that lovely voice were like the bumble bee,
Making music on my ear, like sticks on a drum;
Oh, Sambo, I have miss’d you, I thought you’d never come;
But my heart rejoiced once’t more, when I heard you again,
Oh, Sambo, I loved you, but I fear it is in vain.
Oh, Dina, I have wrong’d you, I know I have proved unkind,
But now we’ve come together, love, we’ll just make up our mind;
I have thought of you in the field, when hoeing up the corn,