From a barque in the harbour, I went roving onshore Went into an alehouse where I'd never been before 'Twas there I sat gambling and enjoying my glass When who chanced to sit by me but a young Spanish lass
She sat down beside me, kept squeezing my hand "Young man you're a stranger, not belong to this land Won't you roam, jolly sailor, won't you roam along with me To some silent valley, where no-one can see"
'Twas then I consented, 'long with her to roam She lived by herself in a neat little home She was brisque, stout and jolly, and her age scarce 18 And the name of that Spaniard, I think 'twere Irene
It was early next morning, our vessel set sail And down by the seaside lovely Irene she came And with her pocket-handkerchief, she kept drying her eyes "Don't you leave me jolly sailor", were the words Irene cried
"I will bid you adieu, love, on a fine summer's breeze But don't you forget me when you're crossing the seas And when you reaches port safe in your own Newfoundland You think on that young Spaniard, kept squeezing your hand
And when you are married, and enjoying your bride, You think on that young Spaniard, lay down by your side"Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
