'The ring that you hold is a link in a chain, Will fetter my freedom, my tongue will restrain I cannot run away, and I never shall be free, So take your kind offer to others than me.' No. 37 THE WHITE COCKADE C.J.S. [Music] 1 Alas! my love's enlisted, He wears a white cockade, He is as gay a gallant, As any roving blade. He's gone the king a serving, The white cockade to wear, Whilst my poor heart is breaking, For the love to him I bear. 2 "Leave off your grief and sorrow, And quit this doleful strain, The white cockade adorns me Whilst marching o'er the plain. When I return I'll marry, By this cockade I swear. Your heart from grief must rally, And my departure bear." 3 "Fair maid, I bring bad tidings." So did the Sergeant say; "Your love was slain in battle, He sends you this to-day, The white cockade he flourished Now dabbled in his gore. With his last kiss he sends it, The white cockade he wore." 4 She spoke no word--her tears, They fell a salten flood; And from the draggled ribbons Washed out the stains of blood. "O mother I am dying! And when in grave I'm laid, Upon my bosom, mother! Then pin the white cockade." No. 38 THE SAILOR'S FAREWELL C.J.S. [Music] 1 Farewell! farewell, my Polly dear! A thousand times adieu! 'Tis sad to part; but never fear, Your sailor will be true. And must I go, and leave you so-- While thund'ring billows roar? I am afraid, my own sweet maid, Your face I'll see no more. 2 The weavers and the tailors Are snoring fast asleep, While we poor 'jolly sailors' Are tossing on the deep: Are tossing on the deep, dear girl, In tempest rage and foam; When seas run high, and dark the sky, We think on those at home. 3 When Jack's ashore, safe home once more, We lead a merry life; With pipe and glass, and buxom lass, A sweetheart or a wife; We call for liquor merrily, We spend our money free, And when our money's spent and gone, Again we go to sea. 4 You'll not know where I am, dear girl, But when I'm on the sea, My secret thoughts I will unfurl In letters home to thee. The secrets, aye! of heart, I say, And best of my good will. My body may lay just where it may My heart is with you still. No. 39 A MAIDEN SAT A WEEPING C.J.S. [Music] 1 A maiden sat a-weeping Down by the sea shore, What ails my pretty mistress? What ails my pretty mistress? And makes her heart sore! 2 Because I am a-weary, A-weary in mind, No comfort, and no pleasure, love, No comfort, and no pleasure, love, Henceforth can I find. 3 I'll spread my sail of silver, I'll loose my rope of silk, My mast is of the cypress-tree, My mast is of the cypress-tree, My track is as milk. 4