The sun was setting in the west
and a small bird sang on every tree
all nature was inclined to take a rest
but there never is no rest, nor peace for me.
Farewell to Nova Scotia, your seabound coast
though your mountains dark and dreary be,
and when I'm far away on the briny ocean tossed
would you ever heave a sigh and remember me.
The drums do roll and the wars
when captain calls, you must obey
and a poor simple sailor just like me
must be tossed and turned on the deep blue sea.
I had three brothers and they're
their arms are folded on their breasts.
So farewell, farewell to Scotia's green shore
and it's early in the morning and I'm far, far away.