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Over the bay as our boat went sailing Under the skies of Augustine, The marsh-hen cried and the tide was ailing Under the skies of Augustine.-- And so we parted. No vows were spoken. No faith was plighted that might be broken. But deep in our hearts each bore a token Of life and of love and all they mean, Beautiful, thornless, and ever green, From over the bay where our boat went sailing Under the skies of Augustine.

St. Augustine, Fla., February, 1899.