There was a little maiden, a-sweeping out a room
She's undone her apron string to give her belly room
The old man in the corner, he looked at her and said,
"What have you got beneath your apron?"
"Nothing, dearest Daddy, nothing at all," said she,
"It's just a little gown that's far too long for me.
And for to stop it dangling down below my knee,
I've gone and tied it underneath my apron."
When her little babe was born, it was born without a dad
The old man in the corner, he sadly smiled—not glad
The old man in the corner, he looked at her and said,
"I knew you had it underneath your apron.
"Was it to a tinker, or was it to a clown,
Or was it to a man who fought for England's crown?"
"It wasn't to a tinker, it wasn't to a clown,
It was to a little sailor-boy what sails the ocean round."
"Oh, was it in the kitchen, or was it in the hall,
Or was it in the garden where the flowers do grow tall?"
"It wasn't in the kitchen; it wasn't in the hall;
It was down the bottom of our backyard, smick-smack against the wall."
Come, all you little maidens, take this advice from me:
Never let a sailor-boy an inch above your knee
For, if you do, you're sure to rue, for he'll pull your collars down
And he'll plant his Union Jack beneath your apron