'Tis now two months or more, Since
a boat left the shore, Mann'd by a skipper and his men. It sail'd at night away, A storm came on next day, And
breaking hearts long For the boat's return since then.
The skipper's wife goes down Ev'ry day from the town, To
watch for tidings on the shore; She strains her aching eyes, And through her descries, The phantom of a form That
will come back no more.
The child she lulls to rest Lulls to rest on her breast, Asks, when will father come
again? She dares not give reply, But with a heavy sigh, And sighing still hopes on, Although all hope is in vain.
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