Traditional)



Come my own one, come my fair one

Come now unto me

Could you fancy a poor sailor lad

Who has just come from sea?



You are ragged, love; you are dirty, love;

And your clothes smell much like tar;

So begone, you saucy sailor lad,

So begone, you Jack Tar.



If I'm ragged, love; and I'm dirty, love;

And my clothes smell much like tar;

I have silver in me pockets, love,

And gold in great store.



And then when she heard him say so

On her bended knee she fell--

I will marry my dear Henry,

For I love the lad so well.



Do you think that I am foolish, love?

Do you think that I am mad,

For to wed with a poor country girl

Where no fortune's to be had?



I will cross the briny ocean,

I will whistle and sing,

And since you have refused the offer, love,

Some other girl shall wear the ring.



I am frolicksome, I am easy,

Good-tempered and free,

And I don't give a single pin, me boys,

What the world thinks of me