| I am a youthful lady
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| My troubles they are great,
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| My tongue is scarcely able
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| My grievance to relate;
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| Since I have lost my true love,
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| That was ever dear to me,
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| He’s gone to plough the ocean,
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| On board the Victory.
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| And many a pleasant evening,
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| My love and I did meet,
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| He clasped me round my slender waist,
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| And gave me kisses sweet;
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| I gave to him my hand and heart,
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| And he vowed he’d marry me,
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| But I did not know that my love,
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| Would join the Victory.
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| Chorus: Mourn, England, mourn and complain;
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| For the brave Lord Nelson’s men,
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| That died upon the main.
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| My parents could not endure my love,
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| Because he was so poor,
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| Therefore he never did presume,
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| To come within the door;
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| But had he been some noble lord,
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| Born a man of high degree,
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| They’d ne’er have sent the lad I love,
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| On board the Victory.
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| There was thirteen on the press-gang,
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| They did my love surround,
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| And four of that accursed gang,
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| Went bleeding to the ground;
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| My love was overpowered,
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| Though he fought most manfully,
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| They dragged him through the dark, wet streets,
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| Towards the Victory.
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| Your ship she lay in harbour,
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| Just ready to set sail,
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| May Heaven be your guardian, love,
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| Till you come home from sea,
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| Just like an angel weeping,
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| On the rock sighs every day,
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| Awaiting for my own true love,
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| Returning home from sea;
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| It’s not for gold that glitters,
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| Nor silver that will shine,
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| If I marry to the man I love,
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| I’ll be happy in my mind.
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| Here’s success unto the Victory,
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| And crew of noble fame,
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| And glory to the captain,
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| Bold Nelson was his name;
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| At the Battle of Trafalgar,
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| The Victory cleared the way,
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| But my love was slain with Nelson,
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| Upon that very day. |