Fare thee well my dear,
I must be Gone and leave you for awhile,
If I roam away I'll come back again,
Though I roam ten thousand miles my love,
Though I roam ten thousand miles.
The sea will never run dry my dear,
Nor the rocks melt with the sun,
But I never will prove false to the Bonnie lass I love,
till all these things be done my dear,
Till all these things be done.
Oh yonder doth sit the little turtle dove,
He doth sit on yonder high tree,
And I'll make it a mount for the loss of his love,
As I will make for thee my dear,
As I will make for thee.
Fare thee well my dear I must be gone, and leave you for awhile,
If I roam away I'll come back again,
Though I roam ten thousand miles my dear,
Though I roam ten thousand miles.
