Bonny Mally Stewart (1823)/The sailor's journal

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THE SAILOR'S JOURNAL

'TWAS post meridian half past four,
by signal I from Nancy parted.
At six she linger'd on the shore,
with uplift hands, and broken hearted;
At seven, while taunting the fore-stay,
I saw her faint, or else 'twas fancy.
At eight we all got under weigh,
and bid a long adieu to Nancy.

Night came, and now eight bells had rung,
where careless sailors ever cheerly,
On the mid-watch so jovial sung,
with tempers, labour cannot weary;
I little to their mirth inclin'd
while tender thoughts rush'd on my fancy,
And my warm sighs increas'd the wind,
look’'d on the moon & thought on Nancy.

And now arriv'd that jovial night,
when ev'ry true-bred tar carouses,
When o'er the grog all hands delight,
to toss their sweethearts and their spouses.
Round went the cup, the jest, the glee.
while tender wishes fill'd each fancy,
And when in turn it came to me,
I heav'd a sigh and toasted Nancy.

Next morn a storm came on at four,
at six the elements in motion,
Plung'd me, and three poor tailors more,
headlong within the foaming ocean;
Poor wretches they soon found their graves,
for me it may be only fancy.
But Love seem'd to forbid the waves,
to snatch me from the arms of Nancy.

Scarce the foul hurricane was clear'd,
scarce winds and waves had ceas'd to rattle,
When a bold enemy appear'd,
and dauntless we prepar'd for battle;
And now, while some lov'd friend or wife,
like light'ning rush'd on every fancy,
To Providence I trusted life,
put up a prayer and thought on Nancy.

At last 'twas in the month of May,
the crew, it being lovely weather,
At three A M discover'd day,
and England's chalky cliffs together.
At seven up channel how we bore,
while hopes and fears rush'd on my fancy,
At twelve I gaily jump d ashore,
and to my throbbing heart press'd Nancy.