Her White Bosom Bare ~ Lyrics

The sun had gone down
O'er the hills of the west,
And the last beams had faded
O'er the mossy hill's crest,
O'er the beauties of nature
And the charms of the fair,
And Amanda was bound
With her white bosom bare.

At the foot of the mountain
Amanda did sigh
At the hoot of an owl
Or the catamount's cry;
Or the howl of some wolf
In its low, granite cell,
Or the crash of some large
Forest tree as it fell.

Amanda was there
All friendless and forlorn
With her face bathed in blood
And her garments all torn.
The sunlight had faded
O'er the hills of the green,
And fierce was the look
Of the wild, savage scene.

For it was out in the forest
Where the wild game springs,
Where low in the branches
The rude hammock swings;
The campfire was kindled,
Well fanned by the breeze,
And the light of the campfire
Shone round on the trees.

The campfire was kindled,
Well fanned by the breeze,
And the light of the fire
Shone round on the trees;
And grim stood the circle
Of the warrior throng,
Impatient to join
In the war-dance and song.

The campfire was kindled,
Each warrior was there,
And Amanda was bound
With her white bosom bare.
She counted the vengeance
In the face of her foes
And sighed for the moment
When her sufferings might close.

Young Albon, he gazed
On the face of the fair
While her dark hazel eyes
Were uplifted in prayer;
And her dark waving tresses
In ringlets did flow
Which hid from the gazer
A bosom of snow.

Then young Albon, the chief
Of the warriors, drew near,
With an eye like an eagle
And a step like a deer.
"Forbear," cried he,
"Your torture forbear;
This maiden shall live.
By my wampum I swear.

"It is for this maiden's freedom
That I do crave;
Give a sigh for her suffering
Or a tear for her grave.
If there is a victim
To be burned at that tree,
Young Albon, your leader,
That victim shall be."

Then quick to the arms
Of Amanda he rushed;
The rebel was dead,
And the tumult was hushed;
And grim stood the circle
Of warriors around
While the cords of Amanda
Young Albon unbound.

So it was early next morning
The red, white, and blue
Went gliding o'er the waters
In a small birch canoe;
Just like the white swan
That glides o'er the tide,
Young Albon and Amanda
O'er the waters did ride.

O'er the blue, bubbling water,
Neath the evergreen trees,
Young Albon and Amanda
Did ride at their ease;
And great was the joy
When she stepped on the shore
To embrace her dear father
And mother once more.

Young Albon, he stood
And enjoyed their embrace,
With a sigh in his heart
And a tear on his face;
And all that he asked
Was kindness and food
From the parents of Amanda
To the chief of the woods.

Young Amanda is home now,
As you all know,
Enjoying the friends
Of her own native shore;
Nevermore will she roam
O'er the hills or the plains;
She praises the chief
That loosened her chains.



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