Not soldiers, not rivers:

One Friday morn as we set sail
our ship not far from land
I there did espy a fair pretty maid
with a comb and a glass in her hand her hand her hand
with a comb and a glass in her hand

And the raging seas did roar
and the stormy winds did blow
while we jolly sailor boys were up were up aloft
and the land lubbers lying down below below below
and the landlubbers lying down below
.
.
.
and she sank to the bottom of the sea the sea the sea
and she sank to the bottom of the sea