What ails you, my daughter dear?   Your eyes, they look so dim,   Have you had any sore sickness,   Or yet been sleeping with a man?      No I haven't had any sore sickness,   But I know what's ailing me,   I am thinking of my own true love   Who ploughs the raging sea.      Is he a lord or a duke or a knight   Or a man of wealth and fame?   Or is he one of our sailor lads   Come tell me now his name.      He is no lord nor duke nor knight   Nor a man of wealth or fame.   He is one of your sailor lads   John Barbour is his name.      Now if John Barbour is his name,   A lowly sailor man is he,   If John Barbour is his name,   Then hanged he shall be.      Then he called his sailors all   By one, by two, by three   John Barbour was the first he called   But the last came down was he.      When he came a dancing down,   He was clothed all in white   His cheeks were like the roses red   And his teeth were ivory bright.      He paid their wages with a smile   And to John Barbour he did say   If I was a woman as I am a man   My bed fellow you would be.      And will you marry my daughter Jane?   And take her by the hand   And will you come and dine with me   Take charge of all my lands.      Yes I will marry your daughter Jane   And take her by the hand   And I will come and dine with you,   But to hell with all your land.      For if you can give her one gold piece,   Then I can give her three.   For they call me young John Barbour   And I plough the raging sea