Upon one summer's morning, I carefully did stray,
Down by the Walls of Wapping, where I met a sailor [bad word] 
Conversing with a young lad, who seem'd to be in pain,
Saying, William, when you go, I fear you will ne'er return again.

His hair hangs in ringlets, his eyes as black as soles,
My happiness attend him wherever he may go,
From Tower Hill, down to Blackwall, I'll wander, weep and moan,
All for my jolly sailor bold, until he does return.

My father is a merchant — the [bad word] I will now tell,
And in great London City in opulence doth dwell,
His fortune doth exceed 300,000 gold,
And he frowns upon his daughter, 'cause she loves a sailor bold.

fig for his riches, his merchandise, and gold,
 [bad word] love has grafted my heart; give me my sailor bold:
Should he return in poverty, from o'er the ocean far,
To my tender bosom, I'll fondly press my jolly tar.

My sailor is as smiling as the pleasant month of May,
And oft we have wandered through Ratcliffe Highway,
Where many a pretty blooming girl we did behold,
Reclining on the bosom of her jolly sailor bold.

My name it is Maria, a merchant's daughter fair,
And I have left my parents and three thousand pounds a year, [bad word] all you pretty fair maids, whoever you may be
Who love a jolly sailor bold that plows the raging sea,

While up aloft, in storm, from me his absence mourn,
And firmly pray, arrive the day, he home will safe return.

My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold,
There is nothing that can console me but my jolly sailor bold.