Song Xv. Polly Poem by Robert Anderson

In Yarmouth first fair Poll I saw,
Well rigg'd, tight--built, for service clever;
I hail'd and took her straight in tow,
And vow'd to sail with her for ever:
Splic'd to a girl so fair and kind,
The sailor knows no jealous folly;
But soon, alas! the fickle wind
Forc'd me on board from lovely Polly.

Scarce had we put three days to sea,
When a hard gale our vessel shatter'd;
No hopes of safety then had we,
For all around us rocks lay scatter'd.
The lightning's flash, the thunder's roll,
I heeded not, still brisk and jolly:
Soon in a calm we slung the bowl;
Each gave his girl--I toasted Polly.

Sav'd from the storm, a ship we 'spy'd;
The word was giv'n, loud cannons rattle:
`Adieu, my Poll,' I sighing cried,
`For soon thy Ben may fall in battle.'
Tho' both my limbs were shiver'd sore,
I thought repining nought but folly,
And boldly brav'd the battle's roar,
Cheer'd with the hope of meeting Polly.

They struck, and soon to land we bore,
When sailors feel a glowing pleasure;
I flew to meet my girl on shore,
And share with her my hard--earn'd treasure:
But in a calm the wind may veer,
So mirth may turn to melancholy;
A tar soon whisper'd, with a tear,
That Death had robb'd me of my Polly.

Full oft I've fought my country's cause,
And weather'd many a stormy ocean;
Thro' life have borne my share of woes--
For happiness is all a notion;
Yet, like a sailor bold and brave,
I'll never pine in melancholy,
But do my duty, till the grave
Makes Ben forget the charms of Polly.