I’m weeping for my sweetheart, my sweetheart, my sweetheart,
I’m weeping for my sweetheart, down by the sea-side.
A ring o’ roses,
A pocketful of posies;
Isham! Isham!
We all tumble down.
—Manton, Marlborough, Wilts. (H. S. May).
Poor Mary is a-weeping, a-weeping, a-weeping,
On a fine summer’s day;
What is she weeping for, weeping for, weeping for?
She is weeping for her lover, her lover, her lover;
And who is her love, who is her lover?
Johnny Baxter is her lover, Johnny Baxter is her lover;
And where is her lover, where is her lover?
Her lover is a-sleeping, her lover is a-sleeping,
Is a-sleeping at the bottom of the sea.
—South Devon (Notes and Queries, 8th Series, i. 249, Miss R. H. Busk).