For howling winds and waves to boot,
With black rocks on the lee,
Did not so well my fancy suit,
As Susan on my knee.
Chorus.--
With Susan on my knee, my boys,
With Susan on my knee.
Next morning we were cast away upon the Frenchman's shore,
We saved our lives, but not our all, for we could save no more;
They marched us to a prison, so we lost our liberty,
I peeped between the bars, and sighed for Susan on my knee.
For bread so black, and wine so sour,
And a son a-day to me,