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You sons of Great Britain who once had been wild,
For to view foreign countries and places of bad times,
When amongst their numbers stood Daniel Monroe,
And he from his country was forced for to go.
The two sons with their uncle was forced for to stay,
For the price of your passage I'm not able to pay,
The price of your passage which on you would be dear,
So take my advice and stay home with me here.
The two boys seemed downhearted and troubled in mind,
For the thought of their father ran strong in their mind,
They shipped on the ocean to sail over the main,
In hopes for to find their own father again.
When they reached America they landed those boys,
Surrounded by ruffians on every side,
And with humble submission those two brothers went,
Unto their own Captain for to ask his consent.
As they walked along together those words they did say,
If we only could see our own father today,
I'm sure he'd be delighted when he sees us so near,
And to ask of our sailing which he never shall hear.
They advanced a little further till they came to a grove,
Where the trees, leaves and branches all seemed for to move,
And there stood two ruffians aloft in the wood.
They presented their pistols where the two brother's stood,
They lodged their two bullets into their white breasts,
And rushed on their trail like two ravenous beasts,
For to rob all their money and to strip all their clothes,
Finding they had nothing they gave them some blows.
One youth lay expired as he lifted his eyes,
You hard-hearted ruffians approaching, he cried,
You hard-hearted ruffians and you blood thirsty hounds,
Oh, why did you kill us till at once we had found?
Found out our own father whom we love so dear,
We never had seen him for seven long years,
He left us in Scotland seven, twelve, months ago,
And perhaps you may know him his name is Monroe.
And who is that young man that lies by your side,
Who is that young man approaching, he cried,
He's my youngest brother and he's your youngest son,
And he cursed his hard fortune for what he had done.
The father gazed on him with tears in his eye,
The old man gazed on them with a look of surprise,
Curse be to my arms I have murdered my son,
And the case wouldn't be so bad If I shot only one.
Oh, father, dear father, now take my advice,
Leave off of rebellions in time and be wise,
In hopes we may meet on some happier shore,
Where you won't be able to kill us no more.
Sung by Monica Rositer (1913-2004) of Cape Broyle, NL, and published in MacEdward Leach And The Songs Of Atlantic Canada © 2004 Memorial University of Newfoundland Folklore and Language Archive (MUNFLA). A variant (A) was collected in 1958 from Mrs. Thomas (Annie) Walters of Rocky Harbour, NL, by Ken Peacock and published as Donald Munro in Songs Of The Newfoundland Outports, Volume 3, pp.812-813, by The National Museum Of Canada (1965) Crown Copyrights Reserved. A variant (B) was also collected in 1951 from Austin Hardy of Broad Cove, NL, by Ken Peacock and published as You Sons Of North Britain in Songs Of The Newfoundland Outports, Volume 3, pp.814-815, by The National Museum Of Canada (1965) Crown Copyrights Reserved.
Kenneth Peacock noted that this ballad appeared in A Pedlar's Pack By Logan who got it "from a chap-book of songs, circa 1778." Another broadside was printed by James Wright of Edinburgh.
