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And the lowlands of Holland,
hath twin’d my love and me.
My love hath built a bonny ship,
and set it on the main,
Yet hath not twenty mariners,
now for to bring her hame;
The weary wind did rise again,
the seas began to rout,
My love then and his pretty ship,
turn's widershins about:
New Holland is a bonny place,
in it there grows no grain,
Nor yet no habitation
within for to remain,
The sugar canes are plenty,
the wine drops from the tree,
And the lowlands of Holland
hath twin’d my love and me.
New Holland is a bonny place,
but it is scant of men,
Yet to conquer New England,
is what they do intend,
for there is none that can win them,
so well they know the sea,
And the lowlands of Holland
hath twin’d my love and me.
