COME, all you wild, young people

And listen to the song

That I will sing concerning gold,

Which guides so many wrong.

Young Emma was a servant-maid

And loved a sailor bold,

He ploughed the main much gold to gain,

For his Love, as we've been told.

Young Emma she did daily mourn

Since Edwin first did roam;

When seven years were past and gone,

Then Edwin hailed his home.

He went unto young Emma's house

The store of gold to show,

Which he had gained upon the main

Above the Lowlands Low.

Her father kept a public inn,

It stood down by the sea.

Says Emma, 'You can enter in

And there this night can be.

I'll meet you in the morning,

Don't let my parents know,

Your name it is young Edwin

That ploughed the Lowlands Low.'

As Emma she lay sleeping

She had a frightful dream,

She dreamt her Love stood weeping,

His blood poured in a stream.

She rose up in the morning

And to her friends did go,

Because she loved him dearly;

That ploughed the Lowlands Low.

'Oh, mother, where's the stranger lad,

Came here last night to stay?'

'Oh, he is dead, no tales can tell;'

Her father he did say.

'Then father, cruel father,

You will die a public show

For murdering my Edwin,

That ploughed the Lowlands Low.

The fishes of the ocean

Swim o'er my lover's breast,

His body rolls in motion,

I hope his soul at rest,

How cruel were my parents

To prove his overthrow,

And take the gold from one so bold

That ploughed the Lowlands Low.'

1813-1838