Sequel to Sweet Poll of Plymouth

When Edward first heard Poll of Plymouth was dead, The functions of life made a pause; His piteous eyes stood aghast in his head, And his ship-mates enquired the cause.

He stood for a while, then address'd them all round, With his hands closely prest to his heart: Within this sad letter at once I have found The sceptre of death and his dart.

It tells me my sweet Poll of Plymouth is dead, My joy and my only delight; When I was torn from her she took to her bed, And sighing, resign'd her dear life!

He fancy'd he saw his dear Poll in the clouds, Oh wait for poor Edward he cries: And wast as he fancy'd he ran up the shrouds, And eagerness flash'd in his eyes.

He call'd to all hands, then gave a loud shriek, And now quite distracted he raves; Do not you see that my heart's sprung a leak? Then threw himself into the waves.

All hands were employ'd to prevent his sad fate; The long boat was launch'd out in vain; They drag'd him on shore, but alas! 'twas too late; For he never once breathed again!