Down by the old river
I was a young man my trade was a deck hand
my first love the clipper the old Rosalea
we sailed from the old town down by the river
to Bombay and Shanghai we traded for tea
I met a young girl down by the river
she said we could marry and live on a farm
I told her I'm sorry my heart's with another
we kissed as we watched the sun o'er the yard arm
I know when my time comes and I meet my maker
I'll have no regrets I'll be happy he'll see
for I'll have my ashes cast out on the river
that I once supported and now supports me.
poem by Charles M. Moore
Added by Poetry Lover
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