Oh, for 'is heart is like the sea,
Ever hopen, brave an' free,
And his girl must lonely be,
Til 'is ship comes back.

But if love's the best of all,
What can a man befall?
For every girl at all,
They all love Jack!

A sailor's greatest deligh is,
Ch: Fredolin
Oh to love a pretty girl, ha, ha,
Ch: Fredolin
But if she shows herself to be false,
Oh, she shall have no joy for me,
Ch: Rosabella Fredolin!

I sailed away and said farewell,
And all too soon she me betrayed.
It is well seen what she gave me,
Who could get hold of another's heart.

Those letters which I wrote to her,
She tore them all, into small bits;
She made them into hair curlers,
And oh, that has really made my heart ache.

A ropemaker's daughter is she whom
I am singing this song about.
She likes to dance and it's sure,
She'll end on the floor with a bottle.

And to her is this directed,
That one can come there when one will.
She has everything ready;
Tobacco and pipe one finds there.

Now I am singing my farewell song,
And thank all the girls for this time.
Come, seamen, keep up your good spirits
And drink up since the girl's fancies awake.

An American frigate, call'd the Richard by name,
Mounted guns forty-four, form New York she came,
To cruise in the channel of old England's fame,
With a noble commander, Paul Jones was his name.

We had not cruised long, before two sails we espied,
A large forty-four, and a twenty likewise,
Fifty bright shipping, well loaded with stores,
And the convoy stood in for the old Yorkshire shore.

Bout the hour of twelve, we came alongside
With long speaking trumpet; whence came you, he cried.
Come answer me quickly, I hail you no more,
Or else a broadside into you I will pour.

We fought them four glasses, four glasses, so hot,
Till forty bold seamen lay dead on the spot,
And fifty-five more lay bleeding in gore,
While the thund'ring large cannons of Paul Jones did roar.

Our carpenter being frightened, to Paul Jones did say,
Our ship she leaks water since fighting to-day
Paul Jones he made answer in the height of his pride,
If we can do no better, we'll sink alongside.

Paul Jones he then smiled, & to his men did say,
Let every man stand the best of his play,
For broadside for broadside they fought on the main,
Like true buckskin heroes we return'd it again

The Ceraphus wove round our ship for to rake,
Which made the proud hearts of the English to ach,
The shot flew so hot, we could not stand it long,
Till the bold British colours from the English came down.

Oh no my brave boys, we have taken a rich prize,
A large forty-four, and a twenty likewise;
To help the poor mothers have reason to weep,
For the loss of their sons in the unfathomed deep.