Page:Six excellent songs (1).pdf/7

 Oft on night as dark and stormy,

Seated in his old arm-chair,

The aged sailor tells the story

Of his chieftain’s daughter fair.

Boatman, boatman, row me over, &c. 



Oh if you love me, furl your sails,

Draw up your boat on shore;

Come tell me tales of midnight gales.

But tempt their might no more:—

Oh stay, Kate whisper’d, stay with me,

Fear not, the Rover cried,

Yon bark shall be a prize for thee.

I’ll seize it for my bride.

The boat was in pursuit—it flew,

The full sails bent the mast,

Poor Kate well knew the Rover’s crew

Would struggle to the last.

And ceaselessly for morning’s light

She pray’d upon her knees,

For all the night the sounds of fight

Were borne upon the breeze.

When morning came, it brought despair,

The Rover’s boat was gone,

Kate rent her hair, one bark was there.

Triumphant, but alone.