Sweet Dove - song lyrics 
American Old-time song lyrics from www.traditionalmusic.co.uk 
SWEET DOVE. 
Fly away to my native land, sweet dove, Fly away to my native land. And bear these lines to my lady love, They are traced with a feeble hand. She murmurs much at my long delay-The rumor of death she has heard. Or she thinks, perhaps, I have falsely strayed, Then fly to her bower, sweet bird. 
Oh! fly to her bower and say that the chain Of the tyrant is o'er me now; That I never shall mount my steed again, With helmet upon my brow. No friend to my lattice a solace brings Except when your voice is heard. When you beat my bars with your snowy wings, Then fly to her bower, sweet bird. 
I shall miss thy visit at morn, sweet dove; I shall miss thy visit at eve, But bring me a line from my lady love, And then I shall cease to grieve. I could bear in a dungeon to waste away youth; I could fall 'neath the conqueror's sword, But I could not endure she should doubt my truth, Then fly to her bower, sweet bird.