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In storms when clouds obscure the sky, And thunders roll and lightnings fly, In midst of all these dire alarms, I think, my Sally, on thy charms. The troubled main, The wind and rain, My ardent passion prove; Lash’d to the helm, Should seas o’erwhelm, I’d think on thee, my love.

When rocks appear on every side, And art is vain the slip to guide, In various shapes when death appears, The thoughts of thee my bosom. The troubled main, The wind and rain, My ardent passion prove; Lash’d to the helm, Should seas o’erwhelm, I’d think on thee, my love.

But should the gracious pow’rs be kind, Dispel the gloom, and still the wind, Safe to my long lost native shore, And waft me to thy arms once more, No more the main, I’d tempt again, But tender joys improve; I then with thee Should happy be, And think on nought but love.