Over the gold of the cold desert sands,
Creeping a slow caravan
Led by a youth from a country a far,
In search of a maiden's hand.
Out on the plain of an Arab's domain
He saw a marvelous sight
Chanting refrains in wild Arab strains
Sakarah danced that night
To the beat of the drums
While the wild chorus hums
CHORUS:
Sakarah, sweetest flow'r of the morning lands,
Sakarah, lithely gliding across the sands,
Sakarah, dancing Goddess and queen of love,
Shakarah, shining star of the Gods above.
Soon as the light of the moon left his sight,
Swiftly the youth did arise;
Crept by the tent of Sakarah so fair,
Told of his love with his sighs.
Over the gold of the cold desert sands,
Both on the long homeward trail
Back on the plain a haunting refrain,
Cries out the Arab's wail.
With a ring of despair
Through the hot, silent air: