Johnny’s gone a-sailing, with trouble on his mind
For the leaving of his country and his darlin’ love behin
Dora Lee-a-Laddie
Dora Lee, my Lily, oh
She’s gone to the tailor shop, and dressed in man’s array
Shipped on board a man o’war, convey herself away
Before you step on board, sir, you’re name I’d like to know
With a smile upon her countenance, she answered: „Jack Monroe“
Your waist it is to slender, your fingers are to small
Your cheeks they are to rosy, to face the cannonball
My waist it is quiet slender, my fingers they are small
But I’ll never change my countenance, to face the cannonball
The drums did loudly rattle, sweet music they did play
And on to the field of battle they soon did sail away
When the war was over, in a circle she marched round
And among the dead and wounded her darling love she found