Occupations

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                    THE

            FISHERMAN'S

                    BOY.

William M'Call, Printer, No. 4, Cartwright Place,
                Byrom- street, Liverpool.

It was down in the lowlands a poor boy did wander,
Down in the lowlands a poor boy did roam,
By his friends he was neglected, he look'd so dejected,
A poor little fisherman's boy so far away from home.

Crying, where is my cottage, oh where is my father,
Alas ! they're all gone, which caused me to roam;
My mother died upon her pillow, while my father was on
the billow,
Cried the poor little fisherman's boy, I'm far away from home.

Bitter was the night, and loud roar'd the thunder,
The lightning did flash—the ship was overcome,
The boat soon I clasp'd and reach'd my native shore,
In the deep I left my father---far away from home.

I waited on the beach, while around me dash'd the water,
I waited on the beach, but alas! no father came ;
So now I am a ranger, exposed to every danger,
Cried the poor little fisherman's boy, far away from home.

A lady when she heard him, quick opened her window,
And into her house she bid him for to come :           [cries,
The tears fell from her eyes, as she listen'd to the mournful
Of the poor little fisherman's boy so far away from home.

She begg'd of her father, to find him employment,
She begg'd of her father no more to let him roam:
Her father said don't grieve me, the boy shall never leave me
Poor boy, I will relieve thee, so far away from home.

Many years he labour'd, to please his noble master,
Many years he labour'd, in time became a man:
And now he tells each stranger, the hardships & the danger
Of the poor little fisherman's boy so far away from home.

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        Crazy Jan

Why, fair maid, in every feature
Are such signs of fear expressd!
Can a wand ring wretched creature
With such terror fill my breast.
Do my frenzied looks alarm thee ?
Trust me, sweet, thy fears are vain
Not for kingdoms would I harm thee,
Shun not then poor Crazy Jane.

Dost thou weep to see my anguish ?
Mark me, and avoid my woe;
When men flatter, sigh and languish,
Think them false—I found them so.
For I lov'd, oh! so sincerely !
None can ever love again;
But the youth I lov'd so dearl
Stole the wits of Crazy Jane

Fondly my young heart receiv'd him,
Which was doom'd to love but one
He seem'd true, and I believ'd him—
He was false, and I undone !
From that hour has reason never
Held its empire o'er my brain;
Henry fled, with him for ever
Fled the wits of Crazy Jane

Now forlorn and broken-hearted,
Still with frenzied thoughts beset,
On that spot where last we parted,
On that spot where last we met.
Still I sing my love-lorn ditty,
Still I slowly pace the plain,
While each passer-by, in pity,         
Cries, God help thee, Crazy Jane.