UP and spoke the bonny mermaid,
Wi the comb and the glass in her hand;
Says, Cheer up your hearts, my mariners all,
You are not very far from the land.
And the raging seas do foam, foam,
And the stormy winds do blow,
While we poor sailors must mount to the top,
When the landsmen they lye low.
Out and spoke the captain of our ship,
And a fine little man was he;
‘O I've a wife in fair London town,
And a widow this night she shall be.'
Out and spoke the mate of our ship,
And a tight little man was he;
‘O I've a wife in Dublin city,
And a widow this night she shall be.'
Out and spoke our second mate,
And a clever little man was he;
‘Oh I have a wife in Greenoch town,
And a widow this night she shall be.'
Out and spoke our little prentice boy,
And a fine little boy was he;
‘Oh I am sorry for my mother,' he said,
‘As you are for your wives all three.'
Out and spoke the cook of our ship,
And a rusty old dog was he;
Says, I am as sorry for my pats and my pans
As you are for your wives all three.