A Barque In The Harbour

From a barque in the harbour, I went roving onshore

Went into an alehouse where I'd never been before

'Twas there I sat gambling and enjoying my glass

When who chanced to sit by me but a young Spanish

lass

She sat down beside me, kept squeezing my hand

"Young man you're a stranger, not belong to this land

Won't you roam, jolly sailor, won't you roam along

with me

To some silent valley, where no-one can see"

'Twas then I consented, 'long with her to roam

She lived by herself in a neat little home

She was brisque, stout and jolly, and her age scarce

18

And the name of that Spaniard, I think 'twere Irene

It was early next morning, our vessel set sail

And down by the seaside lovely Irene she came

And with her pocket-handkerchief, she kept drying her

eyes

"Don't you leave me jolly sailor", were the words

Irene cried

"I will bid you adieu, love, on a fine summer's

breeze

But don't you forget me when you're crossing the seas

And when you reaches port safe in your own

Newfoundland

You think on that young Spaniard, kept squeezing your

hand

And when you are married, and enjoying your bride,

You think on that young Spaniard, lay down by your

side"