The Lass of Glenshee/The Mournful Widows

by Anonymous

The

MOURNFUL WIDOW.

The cries of the widow and fatherlessare piercing for to hear!And dismal is the fatal newsWhich I have to declare.Concerning of these gallant shipsThat lately has been lost, By a furious wind and raging fear,All on the English coast.

There's many a gallant Sailor liesBuried in the deep,Which makes their widows to lament,And children for to weep.Upon the fatal rocks that night,Three gallant ships were lost,By a furious wind and raging sea,In pieces they were dash'd.

It was a shocking sight to see,And likewise for to hear,The dying groans of sailor's bold,Was drove into dispair.The swelling seas run mountains high,Which proved their watery graves,And upon the shore their bodies tore,And cast out by the waves.

Near Whitby town, in Scarbro',Some sailors swam on shore,And others lost both ships and goods,Which grieves my heart full sore.And I have lost my husband dear,Likewise my brothers three,Since the raging seas have prov'd their graves,Are fatal news to me.

And those who were my intimatesIn my prosperity.Upon me now they do look down,And shuns my company. The widow' promise it is large,Why should we thus complain,For Providence will find a wayPoor widows to maintain.

God bless all jovial sailors bold,That plows the raging main,For what they gain upon the sea,Thro' the cold wind and rain. A part of it they do bestow,Poor widows to maintain.May health and wealth may they increaseWith blessing manifold,May heaven regard, and still rewardAll jolly sailors bold.

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