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In England there lived a young ship's carpenter,
They tell me that he had a handsome wife,
When a sea captain he went from Newfoundland,
And soon he blighted both their tender lives.
He said, "Come and leave your husband now, my dear,
And see some pleasure all of your life,
And we will both go back to Newfoundland,
And there we will pass for man and wife."
"If I should leave my husband dear," said she,
"Likewise my little family that's so small,
What have you got to maintain me,
To support my weary ones in with all?"
He said, "I have seven ships now all of my own,
It was one of them that brought me here on shore,
And one of them will be at your command
For to carry you about from shore to shore."
They had not been sailing long upon the sea,
Scarcely two days, or p'rhaps it was 'bout three,
Before that young ship's carpenter's handsome wife
She began to weep most bitterly.
"Do you weep for gold, my dear?" said he,
"Or do you weep for silver that is free,
Or do you weep for any other man
That you do like much better than me?"
"I do not weep for gold," then said she,
"And neither do I weep for silver that is free,
But I do weep for my own little family
That I ought to have brought on board along with me."
'Twas just a short time after that, I know,
This lady she was distracted and forlorn.
Then she soon ended her life into the sea
By jumping overboard at the height of the storm.
When that sad news to England it returned
The young ship's carpenter swore and tore his hair,
Saying, "My curse might lay on you, all mariners,
For you do live a sad and a wicked life;
My curse may lay on that sea captain, too,
For 'twas he that stole away from me my handsome wife."
