What ails you, my daughter dear?

Your eyes, they look so dim,

Have you had any sore sickness,

Or yet been sleeping with a man?



No I haven't had any sore sickness,

But I know what's ailing me,

I am thinking of my own true love

Who ploughs the raging sea.



Is he a lord or a duke or a knight

Or a man of wealth and fame?

Or is he one of our sailor lads

Come tell me now his name.



He is no lord nor duke nor knight

Nor a man of wealth or fame.

He is one of your sailor lads

John Barbour is his name.



Now if John Barbour is his name,

A lowly sailor man is he,

If John Barbour is his name,

Then hanged he shall be.



Then he called his sailors all

By one, by two, by three

John Barbour was the first he called

But the last came down was he.



When he came a dancing down,

He was clothed all in white

His cheeks were like the roses red

And his teeth were ivory bright.



He paid their wages with a smile

And to John Barbour he did say

If I was a woman as I am a man

My bed fellow you would be.



And will you marry my daughter Jane?

And take her by the hand

And will you come and dine with me

Take charge of all my lands.



Yes I will marry your daughter Jane

And take her by the hand

And I will come and dine with you,

But to hell with all your land.



For if you can give her one gold piece,

Then I can give her three.

For they call me young John Barbour

And I plough the raging sea.