'Twas on a Monday morning, all in the month of May
Our ship she weighed her anchor, all for to sail away;
The wind did from the southwest blow,
for Lisbon we were bound,
The hills and dales were covered,
with pretty young girls around.

I wrote a letter to Nancy, for her to understand
That I should have to leave her, unto some foreign land,
She said, My dearest William,
these words will break my heart,
Oh let us married be tonight, sweet Willie,
before you start.

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