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Tarry Trousers (2) As I walked out one mid summer morning The weather being fine and clear, There I heard a tender mother Talking to her daughter dear. Says the mother, "I would have you marry And live no longer a single life." "Oh no," says she, "I would sooner tarry For my jolly sailor bright. I know you would have me wed with a farmer And not give me my heart's delight, Give me the lad with the tarry trousers Shines to me like diamonds bright," "Oh daughter, sailors are given to roving, And to some foreign parts they go; Then they'll leave you broken-hearted And they'll prove your overthrow." "Oh, sailors, they are men of honour And do face their enemy, When the thundering cannons rattle And the bullets they do fly," "Polly, my dear, our anchor is waiting*, And I am come to take my leave, Although I leave you, my dear jewel, Charming Polly, do not grieve." "Jamie, my dear, let me go with you No foreign dangers will I fear, When you are in the height of battle I will attend on you, my dear." Hark, oh hark how the great guns do rattle, And the small guns do make a noise; When they are in the height of battle She cries, "Fight on, my jolly, jolly boys." Now all pretty maidens pray give attention, If a jolly sailor is your delight, Never be forced to wed with another For all their gold and silver bright." *weighing? From Wanton Seed, Purslow RG APR99
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!