Take me back to the place where I first saw the light,
To the sweet sun-ny south take me home,
where the mock-ing-bird sang me to sleep in the night.
Oh why was I temp-ted to roam?
I think with re-gret of that dear home I left.
Of the warm hearts that sheltered me there,
of the wife and the dear ones of whom I'm bereft.
For the old place again I do sigh.
Take me back to the place where the orange trees grow,
to my plot in the evergreen shade,
Where the the flowers from the rivers green margin did grow,
And spread thier sweet scent through the glade.
The path to our cottage they say has grown green,
and the place is quite lonely around.
And I know the smiles and forms I have seen
Now lie in the dark mossy ground.
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But yet I'll return to the place of my birth,
for the children have played round the door.
Where they gathered wild blossoms that grew round the path.
That will echo our foot steps no more.
Take me back, let me see what is left that I knew,
can It be that the old house is gone?
Dear friends of my childhood indeed must be few,
And I must face death all alone.
Take me back to the place where my little ones sleep
poor Massa lies buried close by.
O'er the graves of the loved ones I long for to weep,
And amoung them to rest when I die.
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