I CANNOT forget my Joe, 
 I bid him be mine in sleep; 
But battle and woe have changed him so 
 There ?s nothing to do but weep. 
 
My mother rebukes me yet, 
 And I never was meek before; 
His jacket is wet, his lip cold set, 
 He ?ll trouble our home no more. 
 
Oh, breaker of reeds that bend! 
 Oh, quencher of tow that smokes! 
I ?d rather descend to my sailor friend 
 Than prosper with lofty folks. 
 
I ?m lying beside the gowan, 
 My Joe in the English bay; 
I ?m Annie Rowan, his Annie Rowan,
 He called me his Bien-Aimée. 
 
I ?ll hearken to all you quote, 
 Though I ?d rather be deaf and free; 
The little he wrote in the sinking boat 
 Is Bible and charm for me.