My man, he was a seaman,
A seaman was my man,
He plowed the sea's billows,
Will come no more to land.
The worst of all it seemed,
When the children were small,
They cried, "Our dear mother,
Where is our father now?"
He is resting in the grave,
In the cold grave before me,
He will not come back again,
Before we gather there.
Yes, listen all ye lassies,
You who married wish to be,
Oh, never wed with a sailor,
For sorrow you will see.
Does anyone wish to know,
Who has written this lament,
It is from a sailor's wife,
Left with her five small babes.