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

Her lips were red her eyes were brown…

Her hair was black and hanging down…

This last ten months I’ve been to see

And Hell, this gal looked good to me

I took this maid out for a walk

And we had such a lovely talk

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”

But when my money all was spent

’Twas off to sea I gladly went