Classic Poem

Poor Orra tink of Yanko dear,
Do he be gone forever,
For he no dead, he still live here,
And he from here go never.

Like on a sand me mark him face,
De wave come roll him over,
De mark him go, but still the place
'Tis easy to discover.

II.

I see fore now de tree de flower,
He droop like Orra, surely,
And den by'm bye there come a shower,
He hold him head up purely:

And so some time me tink me die,
My heart so sick he grieve me,
But in a lily time me cry
Good deal, and dat relieve me.