Song Xxxi. Kate Of Dover Poem by Robert Anderson

Ned Flint was lov'd by all the ship,
Was tender--hearted, bold, and true;
Cou'd work his way, or drink his flip,
With e'er a seaman in the crew.
Tho' Ned had fac'd his country's foe,
And twice had sail'd the wide world over,
Had seen his messmates oft laid low,
Yet would he sigh for Kate of Dover.

Fair was the morn, when, on the shore,
He flew to take of Kate his leave:
`My dear,' he cried, `thy grief give o'er,
`For Ned will ne'er his Kate deceive;
`Let Fortune smile or let her frown,
`To thee I ne'er will prove a rover;
`All dangers in the bowl I'll drown,
`And toast my love, fair Kate of Dover.'

The tow'ring cliffs they bade adieu,
To brave all dangers on the main,
When, lo! a sail appear'd in view,
And Ned with many a friend was slain.
Thus Death, who lays the hero low,
Robb'd Kitty of a faithful lover:
The tars oft tell the tale of woe,
And heave a sigh for Kate of Dover.