Song by the wonderful and prolific Cyril Tawney.
|: Sally, free and easy,
That should be her name :|
Took a sailor’s loving,
For a nursery game.
|: Though the heart she gave me,
Was not made of stone :|
It was sweet and hollow,
Like a honey comb,
|: Think I’ll wait till sunset,
See the ensign down :|
Then I’ll take the tideway,
To my burying ground,
|: Sally, free and easy,
That should be her name :|
When my body’s landed,
Hope she dies of shame.