“Silver and gold in the Lowlands, Lowlands,
Silver and gold in the Lowlands low;
On the quay so shady
I met a pretty lady,
She stole away my heart in the Lowlands low.
“Di’monds and pearls in the Lowlands, Lowlands,
Di’monds and pearls in the Lowlands low;
Daddy was a tailor,
But I will die a sailor,
And bury me my heart in the Low lands low!”
When the song was finished the old sailor looked up and saw his wife gaping in the doorway.
“Great bobstays! ‘Liza,” he said, “Ain’t you got a drop of cider for Mis’ Merion to wet her throat with? You’d let her sing herself dry as pop-corn, I believe, and never stir a finger.”