A.W. AUNER, SONG PUBLISHER & PRINTER, Tenth and Race Sts., Philadelphia, Pa.
Let me go to my home in the far-distant West,
To the scenes of my youth, that I like the best;
Where the tall cedars are, and the bright waters flow,
Where my parents will greet me—white man, let me go.
Let me go to the spot where the cataract plays,
Where oft I have sported in my boyish days;
There is my poor mother, whose heart will o’erflow
At the sight of her child—oh, there let me go.
Let me go to the hills and the valleys so fair,
Where oft I have breathed my own mountain air;
And where through the forest, with quiver and bow,
I have chased the wild deer—oh, there let me go.
Let me go to my father, by who valiant side,
I have sported so oft in the hight of my pride,
And exulted to conquer the insolent foe—
To my father, that chieftian—oh, there let me go.
And, oh, let me go to my dark-eyed maid,
Who taught me to love beneath the willow shade;
Whose heart’s like the fawn’s, and as pure as the snow.
And she loves her dear Indian—to her let me go.
And, oh, let me go to my fair forest home,
And never again will I wish to roam;
And there let my body in ashes lie low—
To that scene in the forest, white man, let me go.
A.W. AUNER’S CARD AND JOB PRINTING ROOMS, Tenth and Race Sts., Philadelphia, Pa.