O the boys and the girls
went a huckleberry hunting
Ch: To my way-ay ah!
O, the girls began to cry,
and the boys they stop'd hunting
Ch: To my hi-lo, we'll ran-zo-way

Then a little girl ran off,
And a boy he ran after,
And the little girl fell down
And he saw her little garter.

He said, "I'll be your beau
If you'll have me for a feller,"
But the little girl said "No,
For my sweetheart's Johnny Miller."

Saint Patrick's day in 'sixty-five,
From New York we set sail.
Kind Providence did favor us
With a sweet and pleasant gale.
We bore away from America
As you will understand;
With courage brave we rode the waves
Bound down to Newfoundland.

Stafford Nelson was our captain's name,
Scare sixteen years of age,
As good and brave a seaman
As ever crossed the waves.
The Abeline our brig was called,
Belonging to Maitland;
With flowing sheets we sailed away
Bound down to Newfoundland.

When two days out, to our distress,
Our captain he fell sick
And shortly was unable
To show himself on deck.
The fever raged, which made us fear
That death was near at hand.
From Halifax we bore away,
Bound down to Newfoundland.

The land we made but knew it not,
For strangers were we all,
Our captain not being able
To come to deck at all;
So then we were obliged again
To haul her off from land.
With saddened hearts we put to sea
Bound down to Newfoundland.

So all that night we ran our brig
Till early the next day,
Our captain getting worse, we all
With one accord did say:
"We'll square away for Cape Canso,
My boys, now bear a hand!"
We spread our canvas to the wind
Bound down to Newfoundland.

Words missing

At two o'clock that afternoon,
As you shall understand,
She anchored safe in Arichat,
Bound down to Newfoundland,

And to the Board of Health that day
For medical aid did go,
Our captain near the point of death
That symptoms now did show.
And eight days after we arrived,
At God's just command
He breathed his last in Arichat,
Bound down to Newfoundland.

Both day and night may we lament
For our departed friend,
And pray to be protected
From what has been his end.
Be with us and protect us, God,
By Thin almighty hand,
And guard us safe while on the seas,
Bound down to Newfoundland.

Störtebeker and Micheel, allies in piracy,
Shared their prey equally ashore and at sea,
But God was offended by their terrible deeds,
And shame was the end of their fruitless seeds.

Klas Störtebeker called "All hands to me!
Let us sail to the well-known Western Sea!"
And: "Hamburg merchantment beware!
Look out! We come! Take special care!"

And there they sailed, grapnels in hand,
They tempted God, it was their end.
Near Heligoland in the morning light,
They met their master in a furious fight.

The Bunte Kutz's back rammed the pirate frigate,
And this was their end, their shameful fate,
They were brought to Hamburg, in iron chains,
Their heads to lose and thus end their strain.

Drone Rosenfeld was the hangman's name,
Many a head under his sword there came,
He bound his shoes up to their highest point,
For he stood in blood soon to his ankle-joint.