Mary Neal

I am a young and undaunted youth my name is John McCann,
I am a native of Edinburgh and willing to trepan.
For the stealing of an heiress I was laid and left in gaol
And her father says he would hang me for stealing Mary Neal.
All in cold irons I lay bound and my love sent word to me:
«Don't you fear my father’s anger for I will set you free
There’s a good ship that lies awaiting from Derry for to go
And I will bribe the captain that he’ll let no-one know.»
I gave consent and back she went and she stole away her clothes
And to not a one that was in the house her mind she did make known.
We have joined our hands in wedlock bands before that we set sail;
For her father’s wrath I valued not for I loved my Mary Neal.
It was on the proud and the swelling sea our ship did gently glide,
All on our passage to Quebec six weeks a matchless tide.
Until we come to Whitehead Bay we had no cause to wail
But on Whitehead Bay all on that day I lost my Mary Neal.
On the ninth of June in the afternoon a heavy fog come on.
Our captain cries, «Look out, my boys, or else we are all gone.»
Our vessel on the sandy bank was driven by a gale
And forty were washed overboard all along with Mary Neal.
Now many were the lines we threw all in the foaming spray,
And many were the times I dived but I could not find Mary
Till her yellow locks come a-floating all along the wave so high
And it’s now I must stand me trial for a-stealing Mary Neal.