He sail-ed east, he sail-ed vest,
Until he come to famed Tur-key,
Vere he vos taken, and put to prisin,
Until his life was quite wea-ry.
III.
All in this prisin there grew a tree,
O! there it grew so stout and strong,
Vere he vos chain-ed all by the middle
Until his life vos almost gone.
IV.
This Turk[2] he had one ounly darter,
The fairest my two eyes e'er see,
She steele the keys of her father's prisin,
And swore Lord Bateman she would let go free.
V.
O she took him to her father's cellar,
And guv to him the best of vine;
And ev'ry holth she dronk unto him,
Vos, "I vish Lord Bateman as you vos mine!"[3]
VI.