Lyrics

The Beaver Brig stood neat and trig all in the month of June
She bent her sail with a pleasant gale all on the raging sea
By her crew she being well manned her anchor she let sway
So down the Foyle away did toil bound for Americay

The wind that blew from the east south east the weather it was clear
At night when I should slumber I think all on my dear
These words I said unto myself as I did walk alone
I wish my darling was safe back once more to Inishowen

Moville it is a pretty place where fine ships they do lie
And likewise sweet Magilligan where tall ships they do sail by
My love she is Diana bright the girl that I adore
But she left me here lamenting all on sweet Erin’s shore

Had I Peru or Mexico or India’s gold in store
I’d freely share it with that lass the lass that I adore
But the want of pen to move my hand for learning I need skill
For my rural habitation lies in the centre of Moville

I’ll pluck the finest flower that grows in the month of May
I’ll take three letters of the herb that’s hoist on Patrick’s day
I’ll place those letters carefully they’ll stand at number four
They’ll spell the name of that fine dame once sailed from Erin’s shore

see also   Moville / Paddy Hegarty