Young Lady's Lamentation- (Dub) 1867 P. Brereton
[My abbreviated title. From a broadside printed by P. Brereton, 1, Lower Exchange St., Dublin. c.1867 titled, "A New Song call'd the Young Lady's Lamentation for the Loss of her True Love," (first line: "Tis early, early all in the spring").
The first two lines are similar to and may be taken from Early, Early in the Spring (Laws M1 Roud #152) which is based on the late 17th century Seaman's Complaint for his Unkind Mistress, of Wapping. For comparison, here is the first three stanza of a version of Early, Early in the Spring from Mamie Poindexter, Pine Valley Calhoun County from AP Hudson, 1936 Folksongs of Mississippi:
Early, early in the spring
I was cast on board to serve my king,
Leaving my dearest dear behind,
Who often told me that her heart was mine.
R. Matteson 2017]
A New Song call'd the Young Lady's Lamentation for the Loss of her True Love
1. It was early, early all in the spring,
When my love William went to serve the queen,
The raging seas and wind blew nigh,
Which parted me and my sailor boy.
2. The night is long and I can find no rest,
The thoughts of my willy runs in my breast,
I'll search those green wood & valleys wide,
Still hoping my true love to find.
3. Come make then for me a little boat
For its on the ocean I mean to float,
To view the French fleet as they pass by,
And I'll still inquire for my sailor boy,
4. She had not sailed more then a day or too,
When a French vessel came in my view.
Oh Captain Captain tell me true
Does my true love William sail on board with you,
5. What sort of cloths did your willy wear,
Or what colour was your true lover's hair,
A short blue jacket all bound with green,
And the colour of amber was my tru loves hair [true]
6. Indeed fair lady he is not here,
But he is drowned I gently[1] fear,
On yon green Island as we Pass'd by,
We lost five more and your sailor boy.
7. She wrong her hands tore her hair,
Just like a lady in deep despair,
Oh happy, happy is the girl she cried,
That has her true love drowned by her side,
8. Come all you seamen that sails along
And all you boatmen that follow on.
From the cabin boy to the [main mast] high,
You must morn [mourn] in black for my sailor boy,
P. Brereton, Printer, I, Lr Exchange St. Dublin
1. greatly