It was a swarthy sailor boy with tar in his dark hair,
A brilliant parrot on his arm, and with a roguish air.
It was a swarthy sailor boy who said he loved me true.
I think I love that sailor boy; oh what am I to do?
Shall I go and sail the seas with him, and leave all that I've known?
Or shall I meekly sit and wait, and hope the love he's shown
Will be enough to tether him, and bring him back to me?
Or shall I merely turn away and let the man go free?
Copyright © 1989 Michelle Bottorff