Standard (EADGBE)

 There was a lady in her father's garden.

 A brisk young sailor came passing by;

 He stood awhile and he gazed upon her

 And he said, "Young lady, won't you marry I?"

 I'm not a lady but a poor wee girl

 And a poor wee girl of low degree.

 Therefore, young man, you may try some other,

 For a servant girl I'm not fit to thee.

 Oh, I have houses and great big living

 And plenty money for to set you free,

 If you'll come home, I'll make you my own

 And you'll have servants to wait on thee.

It's seven years since I had a sweetheart

And seven more since I did him see.

Seven years I will wait upon him,

For if he's alive he'll come home to me.

It's seven years since you had a sweetheart

And seven more since you did him see

Seven more you will wait upon him --

Perhaps this young man you might never see.

If he's sick I wish him better;

Or if he's dead I wish him rest;

But if he's alive I will wait upon him

Forty years the young man that I love best.

He put his hand into his pockets,

His lily white fingers being thin and small,

And up he came and he pulls a gold ring

And when she saw it, she damn did fall.

He lift'd her up into his arms

And gave her kisses quite tenderly,

Saying, "I'm your young and single sailor

And been many years on the ocean tossed."

Well, if you're my young and single sailor,

Your face and features seem quite strange to me.

But seven years makes great alteration

And the raging seas between you and I.

So come all ye fair and tender maidens,

Don't slight your sailors whilst they're at sea

For when they come home, they'll make you their own

And they'll bring you o'er to Americay.