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One day this poor boy to me was bound apprentice,
Because of his being fatherless;
I took him out of St. James' Workhouse,
His mother being in deep distress
I took him out of St. James' Workhouse,
His mother being in deep distress.

One day this poor boy unto me offended,
But nothing to him I did say;
Up to the main-mast shroud I sent him,
And there I kept him all that long day.

All with my garling-spikk I misused him,
So shamefully I can't deny;
All with my marling-spike I gagged him
Because I could not bear his cry.

His face and his hands to me expanded,
His legs and his thighs to me likewise;
And by my barbarous cruel entreatment
This very next day this poor boy died.

I asked my men if they'd release me.
If I'd give them golden store.
Out of my cabin straightway they hauled me,
A prisoner brought me on Bristol shore.

And now in Newdigate I am confined,
The writ of death I do deserve;
If I had been ruled by my servants
This poor boy's life might have been preserved.

You captains all throughout this nation,
Hear a voice and a warning take by me.
Take special care of your apprentice
While you are on the raging sea.

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