And she'll leave all behind in a whispering wind
As soft as a maiden's sigh, O.
Or when o'er the Lakes the storm-cloud breaks,
And the waves scoop their murderous hollow,
While the weaker ship to its mooring must slip
And safe in a harbor wallow,
In the front of the storm she fills her white form,
And the demons of danger follow.

O for the life 'mid the storm and the strife
Of sailor and storm and billow!
Far be my bed from the lubberly dead
That sleep near the wailing willow,
But give me the grave of the mutinous wave
With its heaving and whistling pillow.
Down from the skies look the spectral eyes
Of our kelpie, sprite and bewailer,
And gathering in crowds by the shivering shrouds,
They croon while our cheeks grow paler,
And they sing as they sweep o'er the clamorous deep:
"We love the hot heart of a sailor!"

THE AMERICAN GIRLS.

Yes! The land we love
Is a land of pretty girls,
In grand variety;
With their many colored eyes
And their multi-colored curls,
They'll steal thy heart from thee.

If you travel in the North,
One will gleam in glory forth,
With her blue eyes, O, so blue!
And her flash of golden hair
Will be flirting in the air,
While entrancing all the soul in you.
Oho! My Boy! Oho!

Always for your weal and never for your woe,
Your little heart will gallop on the go,
And it will not give you rest
Within your manly breast,
Till you land yourself in toto at her toe.
Oho! My Boy! Oho!

If you travel in the South,
You will find a rosy mouth,
And a black eye, O so black!
And some strands of raven hair
Will purloin your heart just there,
And you'll never get the poor thing back.
Oho! My Boy! Oho! Etc.

If you travel in the East,
Your dear soul will have a feast
On a sweet eye, O so sweet!
And a most seductive curl
Will there give your heart a twirl
That will fling you at two queenly feet.
Oho! My Boy! Oho! Etc.

If you travel in the West,
One shy glance will pierce your breast
From a bright eye, O so bright!
And an auburn heaven of hair
Will so glorify the air,
You'll surrender all your soul at sight.
Oho! My Boy! Oho!
Always for your weal and never for your woe,
Your little heart will gallop on the go,
And it will not give you rest
Within your manly breast,
Till you land yourself in toto at her toe.
Oho! My Boy! Oho!

Thus, the land we love
Is a land of pretty girls,
In grand variety;
Wit