Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/We be Three Poor Fishermen

We Be Three Poor Fishermen.

A Glee.

We be three poor fishermen, Who daily troll the seas;We spend our lives in jeopardy, While others live at ease.The sky looks black around, around, The sky looks black around,And he that would be merry, boys, Come haul his boat aground.

We cast our lines along the shore In stormy wind and rain;And every night we land our nets, Till daylight comes again.      The sky looks black, &c.