Читать книгу Story-Telling Ballads - Various - Страница 5

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One Friday morn when we set sail,

Not very far from land,

We there did espy a fair pretty maid

With a comb and a glass in her hand, her hand, her hand,

With a comb and a glass in her hand.

While the raging seas did roar,

And the stormy winds did blow,

While we jolly sailor-boys were up into the top,

And the land-lubbers lying down below, below, below,

And the land-lubbers lying down below.

Then up starts the captain of our gallant ship,

And a brave young man was he:

“I’ve a wife and a child in fair Bristol town,

But a widow I fear she will be.”

Then up starts the mate of our gallant ship,

And a bold young man was he:

“Oh! I have a wife in fair Portsmouth town,

But a widow I fear she will be.”

Then up starts the cook of our gallant ship,

And a gruff old soul was he:

“Oh! I have a wife in fair Plymouth town,

But a widow I fear she will be.”

And then up spoke the little cabin-boy,

And a pretty little boy was he:

“Oh! I am more grievd for my daddy and my mammy,

Than you for your wives all three.”

Then three times round went our gallant ship,

And three times round went she:

For the want of a life-boat they all went down,

And she sank to the bottom of the sea.

While the raging seas did roar,

And the stormy winds did blow,

While we jolly sailor-boys were up into the top,

And the land-lubbers lying down below, below, below,

And the land-lubbers lying down below.