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Lyrics

Now come all you young fellers where'er you may be
Come listen a while and I'll tell you
It's many's the young man myself I have seen
More fitting to serve than to die on a string
But how odd were the judges, how cruel they have been
For to send us poor lads to Virginny

Now when we come to Virginny, that cold shameful place
Which now I recall in my story
Our captain did stand with his whip and his cane
To bargain for us poor souls out of hand
Like horses they yoked us that had ploughed the salt main
How hard was my fate in Virginny

Lyrics continue below...

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O England, sweet England, I fear I'll never see you more
And if I do, it's ten thousand to twenty
For me fingers they are rotting and me bones they are sore
I wonder about I'm right down to death's door
But if I can just live to see seven years' more
I will soon bid farewell to Virginny

Writer(s): MARTIN CARTHY

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