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For an in-depth discussion of this track, see the album notes: tinyurl[dot]com/V3NATnotes.


As I sat in a lonesome grove,
Sat over my head a little dove
For his lost mate began to coo.
He made me think of my mate, too.

Poor little dove, you’re not alone.
I, too, like you, constrained to moan.
I once like you did have a mate,
But now, like you, left desolate.

Consumption seized my love so dear
And lingered on for one long year,
When Death come at the break of day,
And loving Mary went away.

Death, grim Death, did not stop there.
I had a babe, to me most dear.
Death, like a vulture, came again
And took from me my little Jane.

I’ll labor on ’til that bright day,
When I shall leave this form of clay
And soar on high to that blessed place
Where I’ll meet Mary and my Jane.
I’ll soar on high to that blessed shore,
Where we will meet to part no more.


from Survey of Traditional Music, Vol. 3: Songs of Melancholy and Sorrow, released August 7, 2023
Recorded by (Mark Wilson, Medford, MA, 5/8/74.


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