Words: traditional
Music: traditional

Now a story, a story, a story was one,
Concerning of a sailor his name it was John.
He had been a long voyage and had lately come on shore,
For his money it was good, but his rigging was tore.

So Johnny went into an ale-house where he'd been before,
And he called the landlady for a pint of good beer.
"You're welcome, young Johnny, you're welcome," said she,
"For last night my daughter Molly was a-dreaming of thee."

"So what news now, young Johnny, what news from the sea?"
"Bad news," said young Johnny, "for all's gone from me.
For our ship she sprung a leak, lass, the voyage being crossed,
And on the wide ocean, crew and cargo were lost."

"So go fetch your daughter Molly, bring her down to me.
I will drown all our sorrows and merry we'll be."
"Well, my daughter Molly's busy, boy, and cannot come to you,
Oh and neither would I trust you for one pint or two."

So the sailor being tired, he laid down his head.
And he called for a candle for to light him to bed.
"Well my beds are all engaged, John, and have been all week,
So now for fresh lodgings you must go and seek."

"Well, what is your reckoning?" the sailor then said.
"Oh what is your reckoning? for you shall be paid."
"Well, it's forty four shillings, you owe me of old."
Then out of his pocket he drew handfuls of gold.

And at the sight of this money, the landlady rued.
"Oh, I'd have you remember all I've done for you,
And what I just said, John, it was said in jest.
For these all of my boarders I like you the best."

And at the sound of this money, young Molly run downstairs.
And she huddled him and she cuddled him she called him her dear.
"And the Green Bed is empty, and has been all week,
Where you and young Molly can take your sweet sleep."

"Oh, before that I would lie in your Green Bed, I know,
I would rather lay out in the rain and the snow,
For if I'd no money, out of doors I'd have been turned,
And it's you and your Green Bed deserve to be burned,"

So, come all you young sailors that do plough the main,
That do get your living in cold storms of rain;
Oh, when that you have got it, pray lay it up in store,
For the fear that your companions they should turn you out of doors.