Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE SHIP O' THE FIEND, by ANONYMOUS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE SHIP O' THE FIEND, by                    
First Line: "oh! Where hae ye been, my lang-lost lover"
Last Line: And sank her in the sea
Subject(s): Absence;hell; Separation;isolation


'OH! where hae ye been my lang-lost lover,
This seven lang years and mair?'
'Oh! I'm come again to seek your love,
An' the vows ye did swear.'

'Now haud your tongue o' my love and vows,
For they can breed but strife;
Now haud your tongue o' my former vows,
For I am anither man's wife.'

'Oh! fause are the vows o' womankind,
But fair is their fause bodie;
I would never hae trodden on Irish ground,
Were it no for the love o' thee.'

'Ye may leave your husband to himsel',
And your little son also,
And sail wi' me across the sea,
Sae fair the wind doth blow.

'See ye not yon seven pretty ships—
The eighth brought me to land—
Wi' merchandise, and mariners,
And music on every hand?

'There's mantles warm to wrap my love,
O' the silk and soft velvet,
And rich attires to deck her head,
And costly shoon for her feet.'

She has drawn the slippers on her feet,
Weel wrought wi' threads of gold,
And he's wrapt her round wi' the soft velvet
To haud her frae the cold.

'O, how do you like the ship?' he said,
'Or how do you like the sea?
And how do you like the bold mariners
That wait upon thee and me?'

'O, weel like I the ship', she said,
'And weel like I the sea:
But where are a' your mariners?
I see nane but thee and me.'

They hadna sailed a league, a league,
A league, but barely three,
When eerie grew the lift above
And gurly grew the sea,

She hadna sailed a league, a league,
A league, but barely three,
When she espied his cloven hoof,
And wept right bitterlie.

'O what hills are yon, yon pleasant hills
That the sun shines sweetly on?'
'Oh, yon are the hills o' heaven', he said,
'Where you will never win.'

'Oh, what na mountain is yon?' she said,
'Sae drearie wi, frost and snow?'
'Oh, yon is the mountain o' hell', he cried,
'Where you and I maun go.'

The clouds grew black and the wind grew loud,
And the levin filled her e'e,
And waesome wailed the snaw-white sprites
Out o'er the roaring sea.

He strac't the mainmast wi' his hand,
The foremast wi' his knee,
He split the gallant ship in twain,
And sank her in the sea.





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