Ye rambling boys of Erin, ye rambling boys, beware,
When you go on board of a merchant ship, blue dungaree jumpers wear,
But have your monkey jackets, boys, keep them at your command,
And beware of the cold nor'westers on the Banks of Newfoundland.
We had on board two Irish lads, Mike Murphy and Pat Moore.
In the year of eighteen forty-four those sailors suffered sore.
They pawned their clothes in Liverpool and sold their notes of hand,
Not thinking of the cold nor'westers on the Banks of Newfoundland.
We had on board an Irish girl, Cassie Higgens was her name.
To her I'd promised marriage; on me she had a claim.
She tore her flannel petticoat to make mittens for my hands
Before she'd see her true love freeze on the Banks of Newfoundland.
I had a dream the other night, I dreamt that I was home.
I dreamt that me and my true love were in old Marylebone -
That we were on old England's shore with a jug of ale in hand,
But when I woke my heart was broke on the Banks of Newfoundland.
It's now we're passing the Virgin Rocks, and stormy winds do blow;
With a crowd of sailors on the deck a-shoveling off the snow.
We'll wash her down, we'll scrub her decks with holystone and sand,
And bid adieu to the Virgin Rocks on the Banks of Newfoundland.
It's now we're passing Sandy Hook and the cold winds they still blow;
With a tug-boat right ahead of us, to New York we will go.
We'll fill our glasses brimming fill with a jug of rum in hand,
For while we're here we can't be there on the Banks of Newfoundland.