At cruel fate I am a railer, For my love, Billy, is a sailor, On the sea, on the sea; I wonder where his vessel's going, Only wicked waves are knowing, On the sea, on the sea. Oh, don't I love my Billy, I do, I do, With eyes so red, all in my head, I cry all day for Billy. Without a coat he went a rover, And now he smells of tar all over On the sea, on the sea; And while for him with grief I'm choking, He's chawing quids, and pig-tail smoking On the sea, on the sea. Oh, don't I love my Billy, I do, I do, I dream at night, I jump upright, And think I see my Billy. I'll stick to him like sticking plaster, And hope he'll meet with no disaster On the sea, on the sea; If he was shipwreck'd on a rafter, In a cockle-shell I'd him run after, On the sea, on the sea; Oh, don't I love my Billy, I do, I do; If clouds are hazy, I go crazy, For the sake of Billy. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: GREGORY WENNER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS MY LAST DUCHESS; FERRRA by ROBERT BROWNING THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SUMMER NIGHT by KENNETH SLADE ALLING THE VIOLINIST by MARGARET STEELE ANDERSON |