Collected by Hubert Charles Peterson Transcribed by M. C. Parler
Lowell Harness Lestie, Arkansas. December 21, 1962
Reel 428, Item 1
The Little Mohee
Whule I was out walking For pleasure one day,
Of sweet decoration I scarcely can say,
While I set musing Myself in the shade,
Oh, who could come near me Was a young Indian maid.
And as she passed by me,
She waved me her little hand,
Saying, "You air a stranger And in a strange land,
But if you will follow,
You're welcome to come,
And share with the Mohee What she calls her home."
"Oh, no, my dear maiden,
That never can be,
For I have a true love Far over the sea,
I'll never forsake her And I know she won't me,
Her heart is as true as The little Mohee."
Now I've gone home to My own native shore,
My friend and relations Gather round me once more.
I looked all around me But none could I see That I could compare with My little Mohee.
I'll turn my course backward Far over the sea,
And spend the last days With my little Mohee.
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