Polly Moore

I've come, my dear, for to take my leave, I'm going to sail, love, do not weep; Going to sail o'er the Spanish shore, And I'll leave my fair one, I'll leave my fair one, Leave my fair one, the girl I adore. Hark, dear Jimmy, unto me, There's many's a brave ship wrecked at sea; You best seek leisure in your true love's arms, Free from all dangers, free from all dangers, Free from all dangers and those cold winter storms. No cold, no danger need I fear, I'm going to sail in a privateer; If God pleases to spare my life, When I return, love, when I return, love, When I return, love, I'll make you my wife. There's one thing more that disturbs my mind, Another fair one I fear you'll find; When you're rambling on the Spanish shore, Oh, you ne'er will think on, you ne'er will think on, You ne'er will think on your poor Polly Moore. Had I a thousand girls at sea, I'd love no other one but thee. Go, said Polly, if you're so true, I will wed with no man, I'll wed with no man, I'll wed with no man, my dear boy, but you. At length this loving couple did part, In sobbing sighs and aching hearts; Aboard a vessel and away he went, And he left that young maid, he left that young maid, He left that young maid in tears to lament.