Our Mary Ann

Our Mary Ann

Oh, fare you well, my own Mary Ann,
Fare you well for a while;
The ship is ready, and the wind is fair,
And I am bound for the sea, Mary Ann.

Oh, didn't you see your turtile dove,
A sittin' on yonder pile,
Lamenting the loss of his own true love,
And so am I for my Mary Ann.

Oh, fare you well, &c.

A lobster in a lobster pot,
A blue fish in a brook,
May suffer some—but you know not,
What I do feel for my Mary Ann.

Oh, fare you well, &c.

The pride of all the produce ground,
The dinner kitchen-garden fruit,
Is pnmpkins some, but can't compare,
The love I bear for my Mary Ann.

Oh, fare you well, &c.