The Fisher Lad of Whitby

My love he was a fisher lad And when they came to shore He always steered to me To greet me at my door And he knew I loved him well As anyone could see Oh but I was famed When he came a-courting me. It was on one lovely morning One morning in May He took me in his fishing boat Out upon the bay And he told me of his love As we wallowed with the tide That before the month was over I would be his bride. The ships come sailing in And the ships they sail away The fishermen they sing their songs Out on Whitby Bay And the fishermen they haul the nets And happy I would be Living with my fisher lad Down beside the sea. But on that very afternoon A pressgang combed the lanes They dragged him to a Man O' War Bound by iron chains Irons on his hands Oh and irons on his feet They carried him aboard To fight in the fleet. Now my father often talks Of the perils of the main My mother says she hopes He will come back again But I know he never will For in my dreams I see His body lying low At the bottom of the sea. And when the house is still And everyone is asleep I sit upon my bed And most bitterly I weep And I think on my true love At the bottom of the sea For he never, never more Will come again to me. The ships come sailing in And the ships they sail away The fishermen they sing their songs Out on Whitby Bay But for me my heart is broken And I only wish to be Lying low with my fisher lad At the bottom of the sea The bottom of the sea...