Imagine this song sung by three little Creole girls in French, little girls who cannot be over the age of 11 or 12:
On stormy seas we six years sailed,
And never once green land we hailed.
The bitter seventh year came on,
We found our stores at last were gone.
We ate the mice, we ate the rats,
And through the hold we ran like cats.
And then at lots we took a try
To see which one of us would die.
“Look, little John, if chance does will,
It’s you we’ll take, it’s you we’ll kill.
“Too bad, Little John,” they cried
“Oh, courage, comerades, “he replied.
“For I see land on every side
And three white pigeons towards us fly.”
“And I see lovely sisters three
Come walking down all by the sea
“And if I set my foot on land
I’ll ask the fairest for her hand.”