English

1

Come all you sons of Erin, attention now I crave,
While I relate the praises of an Irish hero brave,
Concerning a great fight, me boys, all on the other day,
Between a Russian sailor and bold Jack Morrissey.

2

It was in Terra del Fuego, in South America,
The Russian challenged Morrissey and unto him did say
" I hear you are a fighting man, and wear a belt I see.
What do you say, will you consent to have a round with me? "

3

Then up spoke bold Jack Morrissey, with a heart so stout and true,

Come , all you sailors of the southern waters,
You apparitions of the Spanish main,
Who dyed the jewelled depths blood-red with slaughters,
You things of crime and gain!

Come, caravel and pinnace, on whose daring
Rose the low purple of a new world's shore;
Come from your dreams of desperate seafaring
And sun your sails once more.

Build up again your stately height, storm-harried
Santa Maria, crusted with salt stains;
Come quick, you black and treacherous craft that carried
Columbus home in chains!

1. Come all you rambling sailor lads and listen unto
me. I'm heavy bound in iron chains, To die for piracy.
With eighteen more I am condemned in sorrow to complain,
For plundering and burning ships down on the Spanish Main.

2 My name is Edward Anderson, as you will understand.
I was born in the town of Waterford in Erin's lovely land.
My parents raised me tenderly, in the care of God likewise,
But little did they think I'd die 'neath Cuba's sunny skies.

3 My father bound me to a trade in Waterford's fair town.

Come all you married couples gay,
Get up before the break of day,
To Dunmow then pray haste away,
To gain the flitch of bacon.
There is such pleasure, mirth and glee,
The married folks will have a spree,
They'll try for love and victory
And the Dunmow flitch of bacon.

So lads and lasses haste away,
And do not make the least delay,
And to Dunmow town pray haste away,
And carry off the bacon.

There's special trains for distant parts,
Young and old, with joyful hearts,

Come all you lads of high renown and listen to my story,
For now the time is coming on that is all to your glory;
For Jumping Joan is coming here the statutes to admire,
To see the lads and lasses standing waiting to be hired.

So to the hirings we have come, all for to look for places,
If with the master we agree and he will give good wages.

The master that a servant wants will now stand in a wonder;
You all must ask ten pounds a year and none of you go under.
It's you that must do all the work, and what they do require,

1. Come all you jolly sailormen that follow the salt
sea, I pray a warning you'll take; now listen unto me, And
do not be in haste, my boys, to leave your native shore, To
sail in those mean packets where they put no food on board.

2 The twenty-eighth September, lads, I'll ne'er forget that day,
The wind blew from the southwest as we got her under way.
We headed out the bay, my boys, thinking that all was right,
But little did we think we had no oil to burn that night.

3 Five days after leaving port in Sydney we did lay.

Come all you jolly ploughmen
With courage stout and bold,
They'll labour all the winter
Through stormy winds and cold
To clothe your fields with plenty,
Your farmyards to renew,
To crown them with contentment
Remains the painful plough.

Adam was a ploughman
When ploughing first began,
The next that did succeed him
Was Cain his eldest son.
Some of their generation
Their calling doth pursue,
That bread may not be wanted
Remains the painful plough.

" O ploughman," says the gardener,

1.

Come all you jolly lumbermen, I'd have you for to know
The Yankees they'll return no more to drive the Gaspereaux;
You told them all the lies you could; you were their bitter foe;
Bad luck attend those wild galoots who live on Gaspereaux.
2.


You thought to scare those Americans and fill their hearts with fear,
You told them they could not get out their lumber the first year;
But our boss he says, “My brave boys, we'll let those galpins know,—”
And in seven days with his boys so brave, he drove the Gaspereaux.

1 Come all you humane countrymen, with pity lend an ear
And hear my mournful story; you can't but shed a tear.
I'm here in close confinement, I'm bound in fetters strong,
Surrounded by strong granite walls and sentenced to be hung.

2 Charles Gustavus Anderson is my right and proper name.
Since I have been in custody I've ne'er denied the same.
I came from decent parents although I die in scorn.
Believe me, now I much lament that ever I was born.

3 It was my sad misfortune that brought me to this place

1

Come all you brave young shanty-boys,
I pray you all draw near,
'Tis of a frightful accident
That I would have you hear.

2

'Tis of a young and comely youth,
James Whaland he was called,
Got drownded from Le Claron's raft,
All on the upper falls.

3

The water being in its raging course,
The river rolling high,
When the foreman to young Whaland said,
" The jam you'll have to try. "

4

As they were rolling off the logs,
Young Whaland made a shout: