'Twas night, when the bell had struck twelve.
And poor Susan was laid on her pillow,
In her ear whisper'd some fleeting elf—
"Your love now lies toss'd on a billow,
Far, far at Sea."

All was dark, when she woke out of breath,
Not an object her fears could discover;
All was still as the silence of death,
Save fancy, which painted her lover
Far, far at Sea.

So she whisper'd a pray'r — clos'd her eyes;
But the phantom still haunted her pillow;
While in terrors she echo'd his cries,
As struggling he sunk in a billow,
Far, far at Sea.

Songs and Ballads of the Maine Lumberjacks, Gray, 1924