There's many ships tarry in the harbor, Many roads wind across the hill; And many roses grow on the arbor, Many's the girl waits for me there still.
Cho: (originally second verse) For swiftly come all the tides returning; Swiftly go then and will not stay. There is no boatman can net the morning; There is no boatman can net the day.
The fish run deep, oh, they run so deeply I cannot find them in the seas. The lonely road winds the hill so steeply, I'll lie me down now and take my ease.
The rose that blooms blows its petals over And the thorns lie upon the bough. The girls have gone now to another harbor; They will not linger beside me now.
I will build me a boat of silver, Steer it with a golden oar, And I will row out of this sad harbor And never sail back to this dark shore.