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"Oh, cruel was my parents as tore my love from me, And cruel was the press-gang as took him off to sea And cruel was the little boat as row'd him from the strand, But crueller the big ship as sail'd him from the land. Sing tura-la, tura-la, tura-lara hey.
"Oh, cruel was the water as bore my love from Mary, And cruel was the fair wind as wouldn't blow contrary; And cruel was the captain, his boatswain, and his men, As didn't care a farding if we never meet again. Sing tura-la, tura-la, tura-lara hey.
"Oh, cruel was th' engagement in which my true love fought, And cruel was the cannon-ball as knock'd his right eye out; He used to ogle me with peepers full of fun, But now he looks askew at me, because he's only one. Sing tura-la, etcetera, etcetera." "Eh! wid your tura-la. You call dat singing?" cried Opposition Bill, stumping up, with his fiddle in his hand. "Stop a little.
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