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,