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"