Lyr. Add: The Prisoner's Song (Graham)

Fly 'way to my native land, sweet dove,
Fly 'way to my native land,
And bear these lines to my lady love
Which I've traced with a feeble hand.
She murmurs much at my long delay,
Some rumor of death she has heard,
Or she thinks perhaps I have falsely strayed.
Then fly to my bower, sweet bird.
I shall miss thy visit at eve,
But bring me a line from the one I love,
And then I shall cease to grieve.
No friend to my lattice a solace brings,
Except when thy voice is heard,
When you beat the bars with your snow white wings.
Then fly to my bower, sweet bird.

Answer:
Fly back o'er the billowy main, sweet dove,
With thy bower so constant and true,
And tell him with tears, I wet each line
Of the message he sent by you.
A feather I'll pluck from thy snow white wing,
Some down from thy panting breast,
And he'll wonder who robbed his friend I know.
Then fly to my door and rest.

Singer, George Vinton Graham, San Jose, CA, 1938. California Gold: Northern California Folk Music from the Thirties. Seems to be a variant of a composed song. Not related to the well-known "Prisoner's Song" posted here; more allied to, but not, "Sweet Birds."

American Memory, http://memory.loc.gov/ammem/index.html.
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