The Poor Little Fisherman’s Girl.
It was down in the country a poor girl was weeping,
It was down in the country poor Mary Ann did mourn;
She belonged to this nation—I have lost each dear relation,
Cried a poor little fisherman’s girl, my friends are dead and gone.
Oh, who has a soft heart to give me some shelter,
For the winds do blow, and dreadful is the storm?
I have no father nor mother, but I’ve a tender brother,
Cried a poor little fisherman’s girl, my friends are dead and gone.
Oh, once I had enjoyment, my friends they reared me tender,
I passed with my brother each happy night and morn;
But death has made a slaughter, poor father’s in the water,
Cried a poor little fisherman’s girl, my friends are dead and gone.
So fast falls the snow, and I can’t find a shelter,
So fast falls the snow, I must hasten to the thorn,
For my covering the bushes, my bed is in green rushes,
Cried a poor little fisherman’s girl, my friends are dead and gone.
It happened as she passed by a very noble cottage,
A gentleman he heard her, his breast for her did burn,
Crying, Come in my lovely creature, he view’d each drooping feature,
You’re a poor little fisherman’s girl, whose friends are dead and gone.
He took her to the fire, and when he’d warmed and fed her,
The tears began to fall; he fell on her breast forlorn,
Crying, Live with me forever, we part again—no never,
You are my dearest sister—our friends are dead and gone.
So now she’s got a home, she’s living with her brother,
Now she’s got a home, and the needy ne’er does scorn,
For God was her protector, likewise a kind conductor,
Of the poor little fisherman’s girl, when her friends are dead and gone.