Young Sailor Cut Down in His Prime One day as I strolled down by the Royal Albion Cold was the morning and wet was the day When who did I meet but one of my shipmates Wrapped up in flannel yet colder than clay Then beat the drum lowly And play the fife merrily Sound the dead march as you carry him on Take him to the churchyard And throw the earth over him For he's a young sailor cut down in his prime He asked for a candle to light him to bed, Likewise a flannel to wrap round his head, For his poor head was aching, His poor heart was breaking, And he was a sailor crt down in his prime. His poor Old father, his good old mother Oft-times had told him about his past life When along with those flash girls His money he squandered, And along with those flash girls He took his own life. And now he is dead and he lay in his coffin, Six jolly sailors to carry him along, Six jolly maidens shall carry white roses, Not for to smell him as you pass him by. On the top of the street you will see two girls standing, One to the other they whispered and said: Here comes the young man whose money we squandered, Here comes the young sailor cut down in his prime. On the top of his headstone you'll see these words written, All you young men take a warning by me And never go courting with the girls in the city, Flash girls of the city were the ruin of me. SOF
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!