[bad word] all you wild, young people
And listen to my song
Which I'll unfold, concerning gold
That guides so many wrong
Young Emma was a servant maid
She loved a sailor bold
He ploughed the main, much gold to gain
For his Love we've been told

He ploughed the main for seven years
And then, he returned home
As soon as he set foot on shore
Unto his love did go
He went unto young Emma's house
His gold for all to show
That he had gained upon the main
All in the lowlands low

My father keeps a public house 
Down by the side of the sea
You go there and stay the night
And there you wait for me
I'll meet you in the morning
Don't let my parents know
That your name it is young Edwin 
That ploughed the lowlands low

Young Edwin he sat drinking
Till time to go to bed
Little thought the sword that night
Would part his body and head
And Edwin he got into bed
And scarcely was asleep
When Emma's [bad word] parents soft
Into his room did creep

They stabbed him, dragged him out of bed
And to the sea did go
They sent his body floating
Down to the lowlands low
As Emma she lay sleeping
She had an awful dream
She dreamed she saw young Edwin's blood
Flowing like a stream

Father where's the [bad word] here last night to stay?
Oh he is dead, no tales to tell
Her father he did say
Then father, [bad word] father
You'll die a public show
For murdering my Edwin
That ploughed the lowlands low