Little John Bottlejohn lived on the hill,
And a blithe little man was he.
And he won the heart of a pretty mermaid
Who lived in the deep blue sea.
And every evening she used to sit
And sing on the rocks by the sea,
“Oh! little John Bottlejohn, pretty John Bottlejohn,
Won’t you come out to me?”

Little John Bottlejohn heard her song,
And he opened his little door.
And he hopped and he skipped, and he skipped and he hopped,
Until he came down to the shore.
And there on the rocks sat the little mermaid,
And still she was singing so free,
“Oh! little John Bottlejohn, pretty John Bottlejohn,
Won’t you come out to me?”

Little John Bottlejohn made a bow,
And the mermaid, she made one too,
And she said, “Oh! I never saw any one half
So perfectly sweet as you!
In my lovely home ’neath the ocean foam,
How happy we both might be!
Oh! little John Bottlejohn, pretty John Bottlejohn,
Won’t you come down with me?”

Little John Bottlejohn said, “Oh yes!
I’ll willingly go with you.
And I never shall quail at the sight of your tail,
For perhaps I may grow one too.”
So he took her hand, and he left the land,
And plunged in the foaming main.
And little John Bottlejohn, pretty John Bottlejohn,
Never was seen again.