A-Rovin’

In Amsterdam there lived a maid
Mark well what I do say
In Amsterdam there lived a maid
And she was mistress of her trade
I’ll go no more a-rovin’ with you, fair maid

A-rovin’, a-rovin’, since rovin’s been my ru-i-n
I’ll go no more a-rovin’ with you, fair maid

Her lips were red her eyes were brown…
Her hair was black and hanging down…

These last ten months I’d been to sea
And Hell, this gal looked good to me

I took this maid out for a walk
And we had such a lovely talk

And on this walk on which we went
She clearly gave me her consent

I took her hand within my own
Said she, “It’s time that I was home”

I put my hand upon her knee
Said she, “Young man, you’re rather free”

I put my hand around her waist
Said she, “Young man, you’re in great haste”

I put my hand upon her thigh
Said she, “Young man, you’re rather high”

I put my hand upon her breast
We did the dance she does the best

But when me money all was spent
’Twas off to sea I gladly went