No 39 A MAIDEN SAT A WEEPING

1 A maiden sat a-weeping Down by the sea shore, What ails my pretty mistress? What ails my pretty mistress? And makes her heart sore! 2 Because I am a-weary, A-weary in mind, No comfort, and no pleasure, love, No comfort, and no pleasure, love, Henceforth can I find. 3 I'll spread my sail of silver, I'll loose my rope of silk, My mast is of the cypress-tree, My mast is of the cypress-tree, My track is as milk. 4 I'll spread my sail of silver I'll steer toward the sun And thou, false love wilt weep for me, And thou, false love wilt weep for me, For me—when I am gone.