Читать книгу The Lazy Minstrel - Ashby-Sterry Joseph - Страница 5

THE laughing ripples sing their lay,

The sky is blue, and o'er the bay

The breeze is blowing free;

For, O, the morning's fresh and fair,

And bright and bracing is the air,

Down by the summer sea.

A pretty, winsome, merry girl,

With all her sunny hair a-curl,

Was dimpled bonny Bee;

Her laugh was light, her eyes were blue,

They always said her heart was true,

Down by the summer sea.

The sun is hot, the day is grand,

And up and down the yellow sand

Perambulateth he:

She promised they should meet at eight,

And from her lips should learn his fate,

Down by the summer sea.

He fancies it is getting late,

For by his watch 'tis now past eight,

Some minutes twenty-three;

The shore he scans with eyesight keen.

And notes the track of small bottines,

Down by the summer sea.

He hums a merry song and strolls,

And tracks this pretty pair o' soles —

His heart is full of glee!

For now that he has found the clue,

He follows footsteps two and two,

Down by the summer sea.

"But ah!" he says, and stops his song —

"This soler system is all wrong,

'Tis plain enough to me,

Those prints are proofs – I can't tell whose —

But 'quite another pair of shoes,'

Down by the summer sea."

The short and narrow, long and wide,

He finds march closely side by side

By some occult decree;

And as he cons the footprints o'er,

He finds that two and two make four,

Down by the summer sea!

He sighs, and says, "Ah, well, indeed!"

And from his pocket takes a weed,

And strikes the light fuzee:

He adds, "I think I'll now go home,

For maidens' vows are frail as foam

Down by the summer sea!"