"'Lisbon Bay' (Sailor's Song)" opens the Lincolnshire Posy suite. Grainger had it from Mr. Deene, at Brigg Union Workhouse. Mr. Deene had a weak heart, and became so emotional remembering the old song that the workhouse matron would not let him complete it. Grainger returned a year later with the phonograph, and, though Mr. Deene had been injured in a fall and claimed he was too weak to sing, started to play him some of his recordings of other singers. At that he proclaimed that he would sing, and did so with much pleasure. As Grainger puts it in his notes to Lincolnshire Posy, "I thought he might as well die singing it as die without singing it."
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'Twas on a Monday morning, all in the month of May,
Our ship she weighed her anchor, all for to sail away;
The wind did from the southwest blow, for Lisbon we were bound,
The hills and dales were covered with pretty young girls around.
I wrote a letter to Nancy, for her to understand
That I should have to leave her, unto some foreign land,
She said, "My dearest William, these words will break my heart,
Oh, let us married be tonight, sweet Willie, before you start."
"For ten long weeks and better I've been with child by thee,
So stay at home, dear William, be kind and marry me."
"Our captain has commanded us, and I shall have to go,
The Queen's in want of men, my love, I'd never dare answer, 'No.'"
"I'll cut my long yellow hair off, your clothing I'll put on,
And I will go with you, love, and be your waiting-man,
And when it is your watch on deck, your duty I will do,
I'd face the field of battle, love, in order to be with you."
"Your pretty little fingers, they are both long and small,
Your waist it is too slender to face the cannonball,
For loud the cannons rattle, love, and blazing bullets fly,
And silver trumpets sound, my love, to cover the dismal cry."
"Pray do not talk of danger, for love is my desire,
To see you in the battle, and with you spend my time,
And I will go through France and Spain, all for to be your bride,
And I will lay me down upon the battlefield at your side.
'Twas on a Monday morning, all in the month of May,
Our ship she weighed her anchor, all for to sail away;
The wind did from the southwest blow, for Lisbon we were bound,
The hills and dales were covered with pretty young girls around.
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