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Oh, the colour of amber is my love's hair,
And her rosy cheeks do my heart ensnare;
Her ruby lips so meek and mild,
Ofttimes have pressed them to those of mine.
As I sailed down the London Shore,
Where the loud cannon balls they roar,
In the midst of danger oftimes I've been,
Ofttimes I have thought on you, Mary Green.
As I sailed down the London Shore,
I kept writing letters o'er and o'er;
I kept writing letters to you, my dear,
Out of all of them I received but one.
If you wrote letters back to this town,
Out of all of them I received but one;
You're false, oh, false love is none of mine,
Don't speak so hard of a sailmaker.
Straightway I went to her father's house,
And it's on this fair maid I did call;
Her father spoke me this reply,
Sayin', daughter dear, don't you love the boy.
I asked this father what he did mean,
Or would his daughter married be,
To some other young man to be a wife,
For I will go farther and take a life.
Now since my love has a man received,
A single life I will still remain;
I will plough the seas till the day I die,
I will split the waves till 'neath them I lie.
Collected in 1951 from Nicholas Davis of St. Shott's, NL, and published in MacEdward Leach And The Songs Of Atlantic Canada © 2004 Memorial University of Newfoundland Folklore and Language Archive (MUNFLA).
