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He sleeps beside me in the bed;
Upon my breast I hold his head;
Oh how I would that we were wed,
     For he sails in the morning.

I wish I had not been so kind;
But love is fain and passion blind,
While out of sight is out of mind,
     And he ships in the morning.

I feel his bairn stir in my womb;
Poor wee one, born to bitter doom;
How dreary dark will be the gloom,
     When he goes in the morning!

A sailor lad has need to court
A loving lass in every port;
To him it's just a bit of sport . . .
     My heart-break's in the morning.

Added: 29 Jun 2002 | Last Read: 4 Sep 2026 3:27 AM | Viewed: 5557 times

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