C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
Faithless Sally Brown
By Thomas Hood (17991845)
Y
A carpenter by trade;
And he fell in love with Sally Brown,
That was a lady’s-maid.
They met a press-gang crew;
And Sally she did faint away,
Whilst Ben he was brought to.
Enough to shock a saint,
That though she did seem in a fit,
’Twas nothing but a feint.
He’ll be as good as me;
For when your swain is in our boat,
A boatswain he will be.”
And taken off her elf,
She roused, and found she only was
A-coming to herself.
She cried and wept outright:
“Then I will to the water-side,
And see him out of sight.”
“Now, young woman,” said he,
“If you weep on so, you will make
Eye-water in the sea.”
To sail with old Benbow;”
And her woe began to run afresh,
As if she’d said, Gee woe!
To the Tender-ship, you see:”
“The Tender-ship!” cried Sally Brown,—
“What a hard-ship that must be!
For then I’d follow him;
But oh!—I’m not a fish-woman,
And so I cannot swim.
The Virgin and the Scales,
So I must curse my cruel stars,
And walk about in Wales.”
That’s underneath the world;
But in two years the ship came home,
And all her sails were furled.
To see how she got on,
He found she’d got another Ben,
Whose Christian name was John.
How could you serve me so?
I’ve met with many a breeze before,
But never such a blow!”
He heaved a heavy sigh,
And then began to eye his pipe,
And then to pipe his eye.
But could not, though he tried;
His head was turned—and so he chewed
His pigtail till he died.
At forty-odd befell;
They went and told the sexton, and
The sexton tolled the bell.