The American Songster, Song

Sweet Poll of Plymouth was my dear; When forc'd from her to go, Down her cheeks rain'd many a tear, My heart was fraught with woe: Our anchor weigh'd for sea we stood, The land we left behind: Her tears then swell'd the briny flood, My sighs increas'd the wind.

We plow'd the deep, and now between Us lay the ocean wide; For five long years I had not seen My sweet, my bonny bride; That time I sail'd the world around, All for my true love's sake; But press'd as we were homeward bound, I thought my heart wou'd break.

The press-gang bold I ask'd in vain To let me once on shore; I long'd to see my Poll again, But saw my Poll no more. And have they torn my love away! And is he gone! she cried, My Polly, sweetest flower of May! She languish'd droop'd, and died.