Lyr. Add: THE ROCKS OF SCILLY

1
Come all you brisk young sailors bold,
That ploughs the raging main,
Come listen to my tragedy
And I'll relate the same.
'Tis prest I was from my true love
She is the girl that I do adore,
And sent I was to the raging sea,
Where foaming billows roar.

2
To the East Indies we were bound,
Our gallant ship to steer,
And all the way that we sail'd out,
I thought of my Polly dear.
We had not gone a great way out
Before a storm did rise,
The raging seas ran mountain high
And so dismal was the sky,

3
Sometimes alone with grief I do moan,
While others are sporting on
Had I but my Polly here,
I ne'er would make my moan.
Sometimes on deck sometimes aloft
And oftentimes below
The thoughts of Polly run in my head,
Tho' the stormy winds do blow.

4
Our captain being a valiant man
Upon the deck doth stand,
A full reward of fifty pound,
To the first that doth see land.
Our boatswain up aloft did go,
On the maintop so high,
He look'd all round on every side.
Neither light nor land espy'd.

5
He being foremast of the ship,
A light he chanced to spy,
Bear off my lads, before the wind,
Some harbour we are nigh.
Bear off my lads before the winds
The Scilly rocks are near,
On the ocean wide we must abide
Till day light doth appear.

6
The first time our gallant ship struck
So loud the captain cry'd,
The Lord have mercy on us all,
We in the deep shall die.
Out of eighty seamen bold
'Twas four got on shore,
Our gallant ship to pieces went,
And never was seen more.

7
O when the news to Plymouth went
Our gallant ship was lost
Caused many a fine young sailor bold
Then to lament his case.
'Tis Polly love you must lament,
For the loss of your sweetheart
'Tis the raging seas, the stormy winds
Caused you and me to part.

Firth c.13(118), c. 1819-1844, J. Pitts, London, and Harding B 17(261a), printed by T. Birt, c. 1828-1829. The Firth copies have a few errors.