Song by: Unknown
It was down by Swansea barracks
one May morning I strayed
A-viewing of the soldier lads
I spied a comely maid,
It was o’er her red and rosy cheeks
the tears did dingle down,
I thought she was some goddess fair,
the lass of Swansea town.
I said, “Fair maid, what brought you here,
what brought you here to mourn?”
“Oh I’m in search of Willie dear,
my bonny young sailor boy,
Eight years ago he left me here
for Bermuda he was bound,
He said he would prove faithful to
the lass of Swansea town.”
“If eight years ago he left you
it is useless for to mourn,
For perhaps he is in some battle slain,
or in the ocean drowned.”
“Oh God forbid, young man,” she said.
“By what token will he be known,
if he ever do return to the
lass of Swansea Town.”
“On his left breast he wears a scar
where he received a wound”
“If by that token your Willie is known
it’s him I know right well,
The cannon-ball which made him fall
gave him his deathly wound,
He told me to take care of you
the lass of Swansea town.”
Soon as she heard him say these words
she fell in deep despair,
Wringing of her lily-white hands
and tearing of her hair,
Saying, “Take me to my Willie,
else give me my death wound,
For no other man will ever enjoy
the lass of Swansea town.”
On coming to herself once more up
from the ground she rose,
His waistcoat it blew open and
the scar it did expose.
They walked till they reached his cottage
and there they settled down,
Young Willie of the royal blue and
the lass of Swansea town.