| In Norwa there sits a maid
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| «Byloo, my baby,» she begins
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| «Little know I my child’s father
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| For if land or sea he’s living in»
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| Then there arose at her bed feet
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| A grumbly guest, I’m sure it was he
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| Saying, «Here am I, thy child’s father
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| Although that I am not comely
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| I am a man upon the land
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| I am a selchie in the sea
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| And when I am in my own country
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| My dwelling is in Suleskerry»
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| Then he had taken a purse of gold
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| And he hath put it upon her knee
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| Saying, «Give to me my little wee son
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| And take thee up thy nurse’s fee
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| It shall come to pass on a summer’s day
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| When the sun shines hot on every stone
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| That I shall take my little wee son
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| And teach him for to swim in the foam
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| You will marry a gunner good
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| And a proud good gunner I’m sure he will be
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| But he’ll go out on a May morning
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| And kill both my wee son and me»
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| Loath she did marry a gunner good
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| And a proud good gunner, I’m sure it was he
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| The very first shot that he did shoot
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| He killed the son and the gray selchie
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| In Norwa there sits a maid
 | 
| «Byloo, my baby,» she begins
 | 
| «Little know I my child’s father
 | 
| For if land or sea he’s living in»
 | 
| In Norwa there sits a maid… |