As Willie and Mary met by the sea side
A long farewell for to take,
Said Mary to Willie, if you go away
I'm afraid my poor heart it might break.
Don't be afraid dearest Mary he said,
As he clasped his fond maid to his side
I my absence don't mourn, for when I return,
I will make you sweet Mary, my Bride.

Seven long years had passed, and no word at last,
Mary stood by her own cottage door.
A beggar came by, a patch on his eye,
Bedraggled, and ragged, and tore.
Your charity fair maid, bestow upon me,
Your fortune I'll tell you beside,
Your lad which you mourn will never return,
To make little Mary his bride.

She slipped and she started, saying all that I have,
It's freely to you I will give,
If you'll tell me true what I now ask of you,
Is my Willie dead or alive?
He's living said he, though in sad poverty,
And shipwrecked he has been beside,
When he'd money untold and pockets of gold,
He'd have made his own Mary his bride.

Then if he is dead, no other I'll wed,
No other I'll have by my side.
In riches though rolled, or covered in gold,
He'd have made his own Mary his bride.
Then the patch of his eye the old beggar let fly,
His old coat and crutches beside,
And in sailor's blue clothes and with cheeks like the rose
It was Willie who stood by her side.

Oh don't be afraid dearest Mary he said,
It was only your faith that I tried.
To the church we'll away, at the break of the day,
And I'll make little Mary my bride