Читать книгу A Parody Anthology - Wells Carolyn - Страница 20

THERE came to port last Sunday night

The queerest little craft,

Without an inch of rigging on;

I looked and looked – and laughed!

It seemed so curious that she

Should cross the Unknown water,

And moor herself within my room —

My daughter! Oh, my daughter!

Yet by these presents witness all

She's welcome fifty times,

And comes consigned in hope and love —

And common-metre rhymes.

She has no manifest but this,

No flag floats o'er the water;

She's too new for the British Lloyds —

My daughter! Oh, my daughter!

Ring out, wild bells – and tame ones too,

Ring out the lover's moon;

Ring in the little worsted socks,

Ring in the bib and spoon.

Ring out the muse, ring in the nurse,

Ring in the milk and water;

Away with paper, pen, and ink —

My daughter! Oh, my daughter!

A FELLOW near Kentucky's clime

Cries, "Boatman, do not tarry,

And I'll give thee a silver dime

To row us o'er the ferry."

"Now, who would cross the Ohio,

This dark and stormy water?"

"O, I am this young lady's beau,

And she, John Thompson's daughter.

"We've fled before her father's spite

With great precipitation;

And should he find us here to-night,

I'd lose my reputation.

"They've missed the girl and purse beside,

His horsemen hard have pressed me;

And who will cheer my bonny bride,

If yet they shall arrest me?"

Out spoke the boatman then in time,

"You shall not fail, don't fear it;

I'll go, not for your silver dime,

But for your manly spirit.

"And by my word, the bonny bird

In danger shall not tarry;

For though a storm is coming on,

I'll row you o'er the ferry."

By this the wind more fiercely rose,

The boat was at the landing;

And with the drenching rain their clothes

Grew wet where they were standing.

But still, as wilder rose the wind,

And as the night grew drearer;

Just back a piece came the police,

Their tramping sounded nearer.

"Oh, haste thee, haste!" the lady cries,

"It's anything but funny;

I'll leave the light of loving eyes,

But not my father's money!"

And still they hurried in the face

Of wind and rain unsparing;

John Thompson reached the landing place —

His wrath was turned to swearing.

For by the lightning's angry flash,

His child he did discover;

One lovely hand held all the cash,

And one was round her lover!

"Come back, come back!" he cried in woe,

Across the stormy water;

"But leave the purse, and you may go,

My daughter, oh, my daughter!"

'Twas vain; they reached the other shore

(Such doom the Fates assign us);

The gold he piled went with his child,

And he was left there minus.