© Pamela Morgan Publishing (a division of Amber Music)

As I strolled onshore one evening, from my gallant brigantine
To the island of Jamaica, where I had lately been
So carelessly I rambled, not caring where I went
Down by some rich plantation, my course I slowly went.

My people out in old Ireland are spending their time at ease
While I'm out doing my foolishness, plowing the raging seas
While I'm out doing my foolishness, plowing both night and day
I will sing you a song of old Ireland, to pass the cares away.

And when my song was finished, my mind seemed more at ease
I rose to pick some oranges that hung down from the trees
I rose to pick some oranges that hung before my eyes
When a female form attracted me, and filled me with surprise

The dress she wore it was snowy white, her spanker, it was green
A silken shawl hung 'round her neck, her shoulders for to screen
Her hair hung down in ringlets brown, her eyes was like the coals
She wore the face of an innocent, her cheeks was like the rose

I gently stepped up to her, "Good morning my fair pretty maid"
And with a kind and gentle voice, "Good morning sir, she said
I see you are a stranger here, has lately come from sea"
"O, yes, I belong to that brigantine, lies anchored in the bay"

We both sat down upon the ground and chatted for a while
I told her of some happy hours, which caused her for to smile
And as she rose to go away, unto me she said this;
"Won't you come and meet my husband, he will treat you of the best"

She kindly introduced me to a noble looking man
Who modestly saluted me and took me by the hand
The wine was on the table, dinner served quite soon
We three sat down together, spent a jolly good afternoon

And now my song is finished, I am going to leave this land
My name is Edward Howler, I belongs to Newfoundland
Three years ago I leaved that shore, my troubles they began
And 'twas all about a fair pretty girl, belong to another man.