My Pretty Quadroon.
Oh’ Who was as happy as I?
She’d a brow like the blossoming pea,
And the light of her violet blue eye
Was shown on a darky like me.
Her face was exceedingly fair
She’d a cheek like the wild rose of June.
And the ringlets of her dark glossy hair,
Was the pride of my Pretty Quadroon.
My Pretty Quadroon, My flower that faded so soon.
My heart like the strings of my banjo,
Was broke for my Pretty Quadroon.
I knew not that I was a slave
So kind was my Massa to me,
So gentle so loving and true,
I had not one wish to be free.
For Massa had gardens and flowers
The flowers were always in bloom
But he grudged me one pretty wild flower
‘Twas Cola, my Pretty Quadroon.
Because I with grief tore my hair,
With a hand that was as white as his own,
He shackled and sold me afar,
To die in the rice fields alone.
I heed not the sting nor the smart
Nor the heat of the hot Summer noon,
‘Tis nothing I fear but this heart,
That breaks for my Pretty Quadroon.
Farewell to those beautiful shades,
Farewell to the little corral,
Where Colea and I often strayed
Farewell to Kentucky’s green hills,
My sorrows will soon be forgot,
My heart will soon rest in the tomb,
But my soul will fly back to the spot
And watch o’er my Pretty Quadroon.