O, Shannadore, I long to hear you.
A-a-way, you rollin’ river.
Across the wide and rolling water.
A-a-a, I’m bound away, cross the wide Missourah.
Missourah, she’s a mighty river.
The injun’s camp lies on its border.
The white man loved the injun maiden.
With presents his canoe was laden.
O, Shannadore, I love your daughter.
I’ll take her cross yon rollin’ water.
The Chief refused the trader’s dollar.
“My daughter never will yer foller.”
And so there came a Yankee skipper.
He winked his eye and tipped his flipper.
He sold the Chief that fire-water.
And ‘cross the river stole his daughter.
O, Shannadore, I’ll never leave you.
O, Shannadore, I’ll not deceive you.
