Across the Rocky Mountain

There was an old rich farmer who lived in the neighborhood bye;
He had one lonely daughter, On her I cast my eye,
She was most tall and handsome, blue eyes and curly hair,
There’s no other girl in the wide world with her I could compare.

She was courted by three squires; so well they did agree,
But to no one like Jack the sailor who crossed the deep blue sea.

Well your cheeks they are too rosy, your fingers are too small,
Oh, your cheeks they are too rosy to face the cannonball.

No my cheeks are not too rosy, nor fingers not to small,
O, it would not change my conscience to see ten thousand fall.


She was walking through the battlefield, searching up and down,
All among the dead and wounded, her darling Jack she found.

She picked him up all in her arms, she carried him to the town,
She took him to the doctor, for to quickly heal the wound