Beneath the Willow Tree/The Minute Gun at Sea

by Richard Scrafton Sharpe

For other versions of this work, see The Minute Gun at Sea.

The Minute Gun at Sea.

When in the storm on Albion's coast,
The night-watch guards his wary post,
From thoughts of danger free;
He marks some vessel's dusky form,
And hears amid the howling storm
The minute Gun at sea.
The minute Gun at sea,
And hears amid the howling storm,
The minute Gun at sea, &c.

Swift on the shore, a hardy few
The life-boat man with a gallant gallant crew,
And dare the dangerous wave.
Thro' the wild surf they clear their way,
For they go the crew to save;
Lost in the foam, nor know dismay,
For they go the crew to save, &c.
Lost &c.

But oh what rapture fills each breast
Of the hopeless crew of the ship distress'd
(illegible text)hen landed safe, what joys to tell
Of all the dangers that befel.
Then is heard no more
By the watch on the shore,
The minute Gun at sea.
By the watch, &c.