Oh, the waves on the sea, how they roll
the chilly winds, how they do blow;
My own true love got drownded in the deep
And the ship never got to the shore.
Oh the first on the deck was the porter of the ship
And a rough-looking fellow was he;
Says, " Icare no more for my wife and my child
Than I do for the fish in thesea."
Well, I left my dear darling grieving
I left my dear darling grieving
I left my dear darling grieving after me
For I never expect to see her any more.