The Carpenter's Wife

"Well met, well met, my own true love,'
Long time am I a-seeking of thee.
I'm lately come from the salt, salt sea
And all for the sake, sweet love, of thee.

"I might have had a king's daughter,
She fain would have a-married me,
But I naught did hold for her crown of gold
And for the sake, sweet love, of thee.'

"If you might have had a king's daughter
I think you were much to blame.
I would not 'twere found for a hundred pound
That my husband should know the same.

"For my husband he is a carpenter,
A carpenter good is he.
By him I have gotten a little son
Or else I would go, sweet love, with thee.

"But if I should leave my husband dear,
My fair sweet boy also,
Oh what have you got far far away
That along with thee I should go?'

"I have seen ships that sail on the sea,
It was one brought me to land.
I have mariners many to wait on thee,
To be, sweet love, at thy command.

"A pair of slippers thou shalt have,
They are made of beaten gold.
They're lined within with coney's fur
To keep thy feet from the cold.

"A gilded boat thou also shalt have,
The oars be gilded also,
And the mariners shall pipe and sing
As through the salt waves we go.'

They had not rowed a bowshot off,
A bowshot on the main,
But o'er her shoulder she looked back:
"I would I were home again!'

They had not rowed a bowshot off,
A bowshot from the land,
But o'er her shoulder she looked and said,
"Set me back on the yellow sand,

"For I have a child in my little chamber
And I think I hear him cry.
I would not, I would not my babe should wake
And his mother not standing by.'

The captain he smiled and stroked his arms
And said, "This may not be
Behind is the shore and the sea is before
And thou must go, sweet love, with me.'

She had not been long upon the sea,
Not long upon the deep,
Before that she was wringing her hands
And loudly did wail and weep.

"Oh why do you wail and wherefore weep
And wring your hands?' said he.
"Do you weep for the gold that lies in the hold
Or do you weep for my fee?'

"I do not weep for your gold,' she said,
"Nor yet do I weep for your fee,
But by the mast-head is my baby dead
And I weep for my dead baby.'

She had not a-been upon the seas
The days they were three or four,
And never a word she spoke nor stirred
As she looked towards the shore.

She had not a-been upon the seas
But six days of the week
Before that she lay as cold as the clay
And never a word could speak.

They had not sailed upon the seas
Of weeks but three or four
But down to the bottom the ship did swim
And never was heard of more.

And when the news to England came
The carpenter's wife was drowned,
The carpenter rent his hair and wept
And then as dead he swound.

A curse be on all sea-captains
That lead such a godless life.
They will ruin a good ship-carpenter,
His little one and his wife.
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